


The Scarlet Snake

by KZ55



Series: Robes of Green [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Slytherins, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Cedric Diggory Lives, F/M, Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, Good Slytherins, Good Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Harry potter & pansy Parkinson friendship, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hogwarts Inter-House Rivalries, Implied Relationships, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-07-29 04:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 262,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16256594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KZ55/pseuds/KZ55
Summary: Following a most unfortunate misunderstanding at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament, events take a somewhat unexpected turn. Although Harry's faced with the reality of his previous actions, he tries to move on and better his life as fifth year arrives.





	1. Behind Bars

**Author's Note:**

> [I own nothing in the Harry Potter franchise, all such content belongs to J.K. Rowling.]

_Azkaban Prison, Summer Holidays, 1995._

The air outside is cold, unnerving, and filled with swarms of dementors guarding this place. But after weeks of being locked up, due to a most unfortunate misunderstanding at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry's managed to endure. It certainly helps to know that, regardless of the constant toll of being around these dementors, his sentence is only until September's end.

Thanks to heated debates and arguments on Harry's behalf, he'll be out in a couple of months. In the meantime, Dumbledore's crash course on Occlumency (from the final week of June) is Harry's best hope at keeping himself mentally intact. That, and knowing that he's innocent, both work to keep him from losing his mind in here.

Although his wand has recently been snapped by Umbridge back in June, Harry stands firm in his belief that Dumbledore will set things right. The Headmaster has promised that he'll work with the others to revoke Harry's expulsion, and to resolve the issue of the latter's wand.

_BANG!_

Harry sits up on his hard bed after a stone hits the bars in his cell's doorway. If not for this woman coming to taunt him again, he would've taken off his black robes and stepped into the shower already.

"Still hanging in there, baby Potter? Would be a shame if you went crazy before my Lord kills you."

" _You're_ worried about me going crazy?" Harry lets out a loud, mirthless laugh. "Joke of the day."

"Someone's getting meaner..." The woman puts on her horrible mock-baby voice again. "Aww, the wittle boy fort he could just relax fwoughout his stay in Azkaban. But he doesn't wealize how the dementors are affecting him. Will he bweak before they let him out?"

"At least I'm getting out of here soon. Too bad you're stuck in here for life, shame."

She bangs her fist to the cell's bars before grinning wickedly at Harry. "Oh no no no no, He will come for us soon, and then your days will be numbered."

Feigning a yawn, Harry stands up from the bed. "Hope you enjoy being his second favourite, not favourite... but _second_ favourite."

"Shut up, you silly little Half-Blood boy!"

"Silly Pureblood lady."

"Pelt the Half-Blood!" She throws a stone at Harry, who swiftly evades before returning fire.

"Got a thing for Half-Blood Slytherins, eh? Do we turn you on, baby Bella?"

"Wait until I get through these bars, boy, then you'll see."

"Are you trying to make me mental by repeating yourself all the time? Boo-hoo oh I'm so scared of the evil lady threatening me." Harry places his hands on his hips while staring at the snarling Bellatrix.

"I wouldn't be so smart-mouthed if I were you, boy. You're not looking the same as when you came in. Filthy Half-Blood's getting a bit thinner, and he's got dark circles around his stupid eyes."

"And you look all messed up already."

"And you look all dead already. Dead from when the Dark Lord comes to kill you."

"Ugh, same topic again, let's talk about something else." Harry walks towards the small window overlooking the island. "Oh look, weather's all dark and gloomy as usual outside. Why don't you go take a swim in the ocean, hmm?"

"Why don't you go drown in the ocean, hmm?"

"Shouldn't you be heading back to your cell?"

"Shouldn't you be dead?"

"Go away, Bellatrix."

"Go die, Potter."

Harry now looks over Bellatrix's shoulder to see a dementor gliding along the corridor. With a sarcastic wave of his hand, he sees Bellatrix glaring at him before she turns around to head back down the corridor. Her footsteps can be heard pattering along the ground as she descends the distant spiralling staircase, en route to her cell.

Although the dementor may have chased Bellatrix away from Harry, the latter now finds himself succumbing to its effects. He knows they're forbidden from giving the Kiss to anyone not attempting to escape, but Harry still battles to clear his mind.

The room feels even colder than usual, its fortified walls covered in a thin layer of ice as the dementor draws nearer. But then it turns around to glide away, seemingly aware that Harry's no longer worth any positive emotions or thoughts. Indeed, he uses his basic understanding of Occlumency in combination with focusing on bad thoughts to deny the dementor its meal.

Instead of Sirius, the girls, Hermione, or anything else that may cheer him up, Harry thinks only of how he failed to save Pansy's cousin at the graveyard. He thinks of the unfairness of being seen as a murderer, due to the fact that his wand showed the _Avada Kedavra_ being used. Yes, he's certainly used it at the end of the Tournament, but he knows it was against Voldemort's one before the Priori Incantatem effect took place.

While lying on his bed, Harry blocks out any sweet memories of Fleur from last year and instead thinks about the Dursleys laughing at him. Images of how they're sitting around the dining table celebrating their 'freak' being gone flashes through his mind. Constant thoughts such as these certainly do take their toll on him, and more than once does Harry feel a surge of guilt and despair.

But he's innocent and he knows it, a thought much like his godfather recalls clinging to during his time here.

There is absolutely nothing to do except dwell on past thoughts in this prison. Now Harry begins to understand just how some lose their minds within weeks. Fortunately, he's managed to keep himself going for over a month already, even past his fifteenth birthday. Never before would he have guessed at ever spending such a day in Azkaban, of all places. He can but only pace around the room, look out its window, or lay upon his bed to pass the minutes by.

The occasional meal is delivered by a dementor, who simply slips a sealed container through the room's bars. With his long list of hardships endured, Harry knows that the dementors would prefer him (their rich food source) to be kept alive. Each time dozens and dozens of dementors make their way past the exterior of his room, Harry feels them siphoning out anything positive.

"How much longer?" he asks while groaning, as he looks to barely see the skies darkening even more outside. This is usually a good indicator of night approaching, and therefore another day having passed by. "Gonna kill Voldemort one day... gonna kill him one day... must kill Tom someday..."

The damp, hardened ceiling above now fades to darkness as Harry closes his eyes to get another night's sleep. Now the onslaught of bad memories begins again as his Occlumency begins to fade. Screams, begging, laughter, a flash of green, another flash of green... they all come pouring back as Harry rolls around to try and force himself to sleep. To pass some more hours by in this terribly boring, horrible place where he certainly doesn't belong.

Another morning arrives as Harry wakes up drenched in icy cold sweat. In keeping with his usual routine, he climbs out of bed to pick up a stone. This is followed by etching another line into the wall beside his bed as a rudimentary means of keeping track of time. Forty-five strokes so far shows that he's essentially at the halfway mark of his three month sentence.

"Hopefully the days will go faster from here on out," he says to himself, while standing on his bed and leaning against the wall. Another basic meal delivered serves as breakfast which he wolves down ravenously before heading towards the window. Looking out, he battles to ignore the swarms of dementors outside while watching the rough waves of the stormy sea. More negative thoughts now steadily flash through his mind while Harry tries to shut off the good, to stave off giving the dementors happiness to feed upon. But he hardly has any control over the many scenarios and voices now going through him.

In reality, Harry turns around and walks towards his bed but what grabs his attention is of Dudley chasing and bullying him. Yet another scenario of fleeing back at primary school echoes through his mind as Harry sits over the edge of his bed, staring towards the shower ahead.

_"You stupid freak, Potter, your mum and dad died in a car crash because they got drunk."_

They're only words of his distant past, and Harry refuses to let them get the best of him. As the minutes pass by, he leans forward with head in hands as the dementors outside continue to exert their influence over him.

_"You're never going back to that school... never... and if you try and magic yourself out — they'll expel you!"_

"I'm already expelled," mutters Harry dryly, while answering the old words of Uncle Vernon going through his head. "What more can they do?"

If there was a clock in this cell, Harry reckons he'd hear _tick-tock_ all day long which would've certainly been annoying. He sits... and he sits... then he stands up to pace around the room while still stuck in his thoughts. Black, grey, rock, stone, brick... these are basically most of what he sees all day long.

"Boring, boring, boring, boring," says Harry, while sighing as he walks around the room with constant echoes of the past plaguing him. These include memories of years back, when his very first friend at Hogwarts was found petrified in the library. Worst of all is remembering how senselessly rude he'd been towards Hermione for months on end, and yet she's always been there for him.

_"You can act all rude and condescending, 'Mister Slytherin', but I still see that little lonely train compartment boy."_

Hermione's voice brings a smile to Harry, before he swiftly tries forgetting about it. But it's too late as the dementors feed off his moment of happiness, causing him to grasp at his head and nearly shout. Eventually, they do stop their attacks, leaving him to fall back and lay atop his bed while looking at the ceiling.

Minutes? Hours, perhaps? The day carries on as Harry stares up while overwhelmed in auditory flashbacks. No doubt the dementors are thoroughly influencing him now as they circle outside the prison.

_"He's obviously the Heir of Slytherin... because he's in Slytherin!"_ Harry finds himself yet again thinking back to second year.

_"Harry Potter's a cheating, no-good Champion looking for glory! Doesn't he have enough fame or is he so desperate for attention?"_ More voices sound that he just can't seem to stop in his head now.

_"Viktor Krum is a far better player than Potter, really. My father even says so too, and I'm inclined to agree."_

"Shut up," mutters Harry to himself, while trying to focus his thoughts through the barrage of voices in his head. "Shut up, shut up, just shut the hell up already."

_"You're a freak, boy, the things you sometimes do are all abnormal! Why can't you be more like Dudley over there? Why can't you be normal? Petunia, why isn't this boy normal?"_

"It's just voices, dementors messing with my head..."

_"Dudleykins is going to Smeltings, and you... you're going to Stonewall. That's where you belong."_

"I'm not listening to these voices, I don't care..." Harry battles against the presence of dozens of dementors still circling his cell from the outside.

_"You're abnormal, Pot—"_

But what would've been Dudley's friend, Piers Polkiss', voice now gradually fades to something else. Like a distant, old record being played in his head, Harry hears the faintest of little children's voices.

_"You're abnormal! What are you doing over there, Tom? Stop it!"_

"The hell?" Harry jolts up in bed while appearing quite bewildered. "That never happened to me before. Friggin dementors are really screwing with my head."

On and on do the voices keep on playing in his mind until Harry finally gets a grip on himself. Using what's been taught to him, he clears his thoughts and empties his emotions once more. Now the memories and voices begin to fade out until he's left with the silence of the room. All that's heard are the waves of the stormy seas outside.

The same routine carries on as it's soon his evening meal before Harry takes a cold shower, then, finally, he gets into bed. When the sun (or what little there is here) comes up, he marks off another day which passes by agonizingly slow. Then it's the same pattern yet again and again and again as more days are marked off on the wall. Eventually, Harry begins to feel a sense of relief (which is soon sucked out by the dementors anyway) as he marks off day 60. Just over a month to go until he's out of this terrible place.

"Better not be getting too excited, Potter, because you'll be dead soon enough. Enjoy your last bit of freedom before then," says Bellatrix, who once again shows up at Harry's doorway around... mid-afternoon?

"Yeah, sure, I'll try not to die too messily."

She laughs coldly at him. "Oh don't worry, the Killing Curse doesn't leave any marks."

"What about this one, huh?" Harry parts his messy bangs to tauntingly flaunt his lightning-bolt scar. "Point blank and this little baby still lives on."

"BE QUIET!" Bellatrix grabs the bars in fury. "You got lucky, somehow! But you won't get lucky again now that He's back."

"Kiss my arse, or isn't that what you do to your boss?"

"I'm going to kill you, Potter."

"He wouldn't appreciate that very much."

"I'll torture you before He kills you then."

"Sounds quite hot, yes?"

"You filthy little Half-Blood scum! Whatever you're thinking will never ever happen, you degenerate insult towards our House."

"Thanks for the compliment, much appreciated." Harry smiles cheekily as the livid Bellatrix paces up and down the corridor outside this room.

"Come on out and we'll see how cocky you really are, pig."

"Cocky? Nah, sorry, I'm not looking to get laid unless you clean yourself up a bit. Might be some potential there though..."

"I meant 'arrogant', or are you really that stupid from being in here? Or maybe you're going crazy?" She laughs triumphantly before Harry scoffs.

"You should know all about that after fifteen years in here. Fifteen years of devotion to your Master whose new favourite is obviously Barty Crouch Jr."

"I TOLD YOU THAT BOY IS LONG DEAD!"

"Oh my God." Harry groans before face-palming himself. "Haven't you been listening to what I've said over and over? His father smuggled him out years back, and after breaking free of the Imperius Curse little Barty sought out the Dark Lord. So while you were in here... I dunno, playing with yourself or whatever... Bartemius was tending to your Master while the Tournament was happening. I'm sure the Dark Lord would appreciate his efforts and the ritual he helped perform in the graveyard more than your _fifteen years_. Sure, he said you Azkaban people would be 'honoured beyond their dreams'..."

Harry pauses as Bellatrix smiles and laughs most excitedly, while claiming that she is Voldemort's favourite after all.

"... Anyway, I wouldn't put too much faith in what he says—"

"How dare you say that about him, you disgusting Half-Blood!"

"—because he seems like someone who hardly cares about anyone, well, except maybe Barty Jr. for his useful services."

"Lies, lies, lies, lies! Your filthy tongue speaks nothing but lies all over, stupid, animal Half-Blood in our House."

The statement elicits a delightful little laugh from Harry now. "Man, the irony of those words are so bad coming from you. Ever tried saying that in front of your boss?"

"He's nothing like you, baby Potter."

"Oh I dunno, I mean we're both Half-Blood, both from Slytherin House, both Parselmouths—"

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" shrieks Bellatrix.

"Go read the newspapers then and you'll see."

"My Lord has survived near death, boy, and now he's back."

"Sounds familiar... hmm... oh yeah I took a Killing Curse to the face and survived." Harry looks challengingly at Bellatrix as the latter wags her finger at him.

"You think you're so smart and good, don't you? Bah! You don't have the balls to do the things my Lord has done, so don't you dare compare filth like yourself to greatness like him."

"I shot off a very good _Avada Kedavra_ against him, which he struggled against."

"More lies from your silly little tongue. The Killing Curse is unblockable, so nobody 'struggles' against it."

"Well," replies Harry. "When He finally frees you then feel free to ask the Dark Lord all about it."

Bellatrix pauses for a moment before wickedly grinning (yet again). "So, how does it feel to be dumped in here by your Headmaster?"

"Seriously?" Harry nearly laughs. "You think Professor Dumbledore sent me to Azkaban? If anything, he's done his best to ensure I get in and get out as safely as possible. Blame that naive idiot Fudge and his cronies for all this. Nope, sorry, not gonna make me doubt in Dumbledore."

"And you're not going to make me doubt in my Lord."

"Dumbledore's a far better wizard than your Lord," replies Harry smugly. "Nobody beats the Headmaster."

"Where are your all your friends? It's September so they're probably off enjoying the start of school while _itty... bitty... baby..._ _Potter_ is stuck in a cell," says Bellatrix.

"Well you see my friends are probably pissed off at my predicament."

"But everyone in Slytherin is probably awaiting the Dark Lord's arrival. So you're going to be in a lot of danger in the dungeons now, Potter. Assuming you can even get back after most likely being expelled."

"Who says I only have Slytherin friends? In fact, a lot of people in other Houses like me too. Could your Lord manage that when he was in school?"

"SHUT YOUR FILTHY FACE, BOY! SLYTHERIN IS THE BEST HOUSE!"

"Hey I don't disagree with that but I'm just stating the facts." Harry grins tauntingly at Bellatrix now. "I've got Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and Muggleborns on my side. Now that is cool, don't you think?"

"Disgusting."

"Thank you. And I believe the other term you people use is 'Blood traitor', right? Well, I don't think that's a very nice thing to say about certain good families."

"Of course the foolish, soon-to-be dead, baby Potter will ally himself with Mudbloods and Blood traitors, you'll all be dead one day. Might as well have a happy time before the Dark Lord cleans this world."

"Anything else you'd like to discuss, baby Bella?"

"Don't you dare call me that. You will address me properly, boy."

"Deranged Lestrange."

"Rotting Potter."

"The Dark Lord's... _second_ favourite," says a laughing Harry.

"I'm his favourite! Nothing you say and no amount of lies will change that. HAHAHA! And you're Dumbledore's little dog, aren't you, Potter?"

"At least he cares about his people, unlike You-Know-Who-Doesn't-Give-a-Damn. Oh, I think it's time for you to head back to your cell. Nice chatting to you again, Miss Lestrange." Harry sees a dementor now coming to force Bellatrix back to her cell (at least one floor below Harry's).

"You're going to die, going to diiiie!" sings Bellatrix as she walks down the corridor towards the staircase.

"Crazy witch."

Harry laughs before sitting down and reminding himself that Bellatrix is just a crazier, taller, older, and deadlier version of Pansy Parkinson. Or at least that's how he sees this woman. But he swiftly tries taking his mind off Pansy before the dementors leech this sense of affection. Between Pansy, Hermione, Ginny, and Fleur, Harry finds himself constantly needing to clear his mind of positive thoughts. As the long, terribly dull days pass by, he wonders how three of them are getting on at school, and what Fleur might be doing these days.

Tossing and turning in his bed seems to be the norm for Harry at night, as the dementors outside take advantage of the lulled mind. He reckons it's a good thing that his cell's been soundproofed, for Harry's had more than a few nightmares in here. Terrible flashbacks of the girl dying before his eyes in the graveyard cause him quite a few sleepless nights. The worst part being just how close they'd come to actually escaping, before Crouch Jr. finally got Alyssa Parkinson with the Killing Curse.

_"You tell them I got a shot on Lord Voldemort himself."_

Her voice echoes in Harry's mind as he tries to shut his eyes in this cold, dark room he's confined to.

Slowly, but surely, time moves on as Harry marks off more strokes on his wall to track the days. It's the same routine again and again and again every single day as he eventually marks off _sixty-nine_ , _seventy_ , _seventy-one_... It has to be around the second week of school, and Harry's expulsion would be glaringly obvious now.

He can only imagine how delighted the other Slytherin boys are, namely Theodore Nott. For the latter has always tried (and failed) to have Pansy Parkinson for himself. But without Harry's presence around, the latter wonders how the heartbroken girl would be coping. First her cousin and now Harry himself, two friendly faces gone in the same year.

There has also been a new arrival in Azkaban, a Sturgis Podmore, who's now kept locked up under close watch by the dementors. Close enough that, unlike Bellatrix who occasionally slips out, he cannot seem to get a word in with Harry.

"Hey, Potter-corpse," calls Bellatrix from Harry's bars one afternoon. "Don't you ignore me, stupid thing."

"Come to pest— I mean 'chat' with me again? What does baby Bella have to say?" Harry stands up from his bed before walking to the centre of his room.

"Even your pal, Dumbledore, is having people turn on him these days, hahaha!"

"The hell are you talking about?"

"You don't know?" Bellatrix adopts another wicked grin. "He doesn't know? The little wittle baby doesn't know about his stupid old man's foolish army? Never heard of the Order, boy? Order of the Phoenix, that is. Idiots who dare defy us Death Eaters and our Lord... no wonder so many of them got taken out before you were born."

Truth be told, Harry recalls having heard a brief description of this 'Order' from Moody last year, but he decides to act ignorant now.

"So... Dumbledore had his own private army against you all?"

"That's what I just said! Damn, Potter, you really are getting more stupid in here by the day."

"So why are you telling me all this?"

"Because that Podmore guy was probably one of Dumbledore's dogs, like you. Oh, but he decided to try and break into the Ministry somewhere, or so I've heard them say as they brought him in. You and your old man are running out of friends nowadays..."

"Well at least I've got one friend here in Azkaban," says Harry, while smiling at the scowling Bellatrix.

"Friend? Bah! I just enjoy talking to a soon-to-be dead boy. Make him realize the foolishness of daring to defy the Dark Lord."

"Well, if you're expecting me to switch sides and join up with you lot then that's not gonna happen. I'm the Dark Lord's number one enemy, remember?"

"Don't worry," says Bellatrix in a cold, sadistic tone. "I'll be sure to bury your corpse under a big statue to commemorate our mighty Dark Lord who's killed you."

"Oh that's so very kind of you, ma'am. Nice to know I won't be thrown in a bin or something," replies Harry calmly.

"Ha! Don't tempt me to do just that one day. Or maybe I'll string you up as decoration somewhere."

"Yeah? Well keep my clothes on because I'd rather my broomstick not show to the world, thanks."

"Oh please, probably not much to see there anyway, stupid boy."

"Wanna look?"

"Don't you dare! Half-Blood scum."

"Just kidding."

Harry gives another sarcastic wave as Bellatrix is forced to return to her cell downstairs. Meanwhile, the former begins enduring another round of dementor-induced flashbacks. This time, they hit hard and fast as various voices swarm through his mind while he lays on his bed.

_"You're a disgrace, boy! An abnormal boy who's got no future, unlike Dudley over here..."_

_"Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk, I expect..."_

_"I'm telling the matron what you're doing, Tom, you're doing weird things! Stop it!"_

_"You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it. ..."_

"I need to get out of this prison already," mutters Harry to himself, unsure of why the dementors are causing some unknown voices to surface in his head. "Need to get out... gotta hold on just a few more weeks..."

_Seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy nine, eighty_...

As the final days of his sentence nears, Harry runs his hands through his hair and can only wonder what he looks like now. It hardly helps that Bellatrix keeps poking fun at his 'degraded' appearance whenever she stands at the bars.

"They've abandoned you, boy, thrown you away in here to look like rubbish."

"The very best kind of rubbish, Bella."

"Address your superiors properly, Half-Blood pig."

"I dare you a thousand Galleons to say that to the Dark Lord."

"Go to hell, Potter."

"Wanna come with me?"

"You already look like hell anyway, boy."

Eat, pace around, dwell on bad memories, swap insults, sleep... Harry's routine stays pretty much the same as he enters the last ten days of imprisonment.

_Eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four..._

Now time seems to be speeding up for Harry, and the dementors rapidly feed off him as much as possible. Whatever he's learnt from Dumbledore is truly put to the test over these arduous few days as voices flood him yet again.

_"You'll never amount to anything but a drunk, Potter."_

_"Better not try to drive a car or else you'll end up like your parents."_

On the afternoon of Harry's final day in Azkaban, he stands with a smile before his prison bars.

"Three months of boredom finally at an end! You jealous, lady?"

Once again standing in the corridor outside, Bellatrix scoffs. "The Dark Lord will free his loyal servants, and then you'd better enjoy the last of your life."

"Yeah, I guess I'll have to go around grabbing my share of witches, eh?"

She almost laughs before replying. "Better grab 'em all while there's still time. Tick-tock, the clock's ticking for you, baby Potter."

"I'll be honest, it was fun meeting and speaking with you, baby Bella." He grins mischievously as she narrows her eyes at him "And don't forget what I said about Barty Jr. being the favourite."

"For your sake, Harry Potter, you'd best drop that horrendous nickname. _Baby Bella_... couldn't you at least have thought up something better?"

"Sorry, guess I have gotten dumber in this place."

Bellatrix laughs before replying. "Well, at least you've noticed the obvious. You look like hell after just three months though."

They both spot numerous dementors gliding down the corridor followed by familiar faces.

"Well, look who's here to come and fetch their pwecious wittle godson. How do you do?"

A loud gasp echoes from the corridor, which Harry immediately recognizes as Sirius.

"WHAT'S SHE DOING OUT OF HER CELL? GET HER BACK INSIDE ALREADY! GODDAMMIT! Are you telling me this witch has been messing with Harry all this time?"

"Oh relax, idiot. We've just been talking and exchanging insults. Very interesting boy you've got here—"

"That's quite enough," says the voice of Moody, who Harry sees as being joined by a startled Tonks.

"—oooooh, first baby Potter and now Andromeda's girl? Is the whole family here? Heard you're some up-and-coming Auror now, _Nymphadora_ , pfft."

Cornelius Fudge can now be heard ordering the dementors to take Bellatrix away and secure her cell. As she's being led away, her voice echoes down the corridor.

"...see you soon, baby Potter, see you soon! Hahahaha!"

Before he can respond, Harry sees his cell opened before Sirius sprints in to hug him tightly.

"Harry! I'm so sorry you had to go through all this. So sorry! Look at you now, so thin and... and your face! Did Bellatrix do anything to hurt you? Taunt you?"

"No, but..." Harry pauses to withhold his tears. "Do you have any idea of the _irony_ of this situation? Two years back, when you broke out... had you ever expected to come back in for me?"

"Never, and I can hardly believe my deranged cousin's been harassing you this whole time." Sirius continues to hold his godson close while Tonks stands in the doorway and widens her eyes upon seeing Harry.

"You look horrible, no offence, but you've got to see your face. I just can't believe you actually survived this _hellhole_." She now joins in on the hug while Moody speaks from the corridor outside.

"Kingsley and I will make sure Lestrange is locked up in her cell. Oh, and I think the Minister would like to have a word with Potter."

"TELL HIM TO PISS OFF!" shouts Harry, who's joined by Sirius also hurling insults down the corridor.

"Now now," says Fudge, as he stands near the distant staircase. "Let's not get overdramatic, okay? You should be grateful that Dumbledore, and everyone else, fought so hard to lower this sentence. Three months is still better than life, right?"

"Let me guess..." Harry exits his cell to stare down the grim-looking Minister. "You still don't believe that the Killing Curse shown by my wand was used on Voldemort?"

The name elicits a gasp of fear before Fudge swiftly replies. "Now see here! There's absolutely no proof of those accusations still. What do you expect to do about all this then, anyway? A fifteen year old boy can't hope to topple the Ministry now, can he? You should know your place in politics, young man, and that place is absolutely nowhere."

"Ha-ha." Harry laughs mirthlessly. "When Voldemort reveals himself... you and your gang will be held responsible for false imprisonment of a fourteen year old. That, in addition to snapping my wand and disrupting what should have been the start of my fifth year of school."

"Yes of course." Fudge now turns to look at the livid Sirius (who's being desperately calmed down by Tonks). "Mr. Black, your godson is free to go, so I suggest you get him cleaned up and all that. Stop by Diagon Alley for whatever he might need."

"SCREW YOU, FUDGE, YOU CAN ROT IN—"

"Sirius!" whispers Tonks loudly. "Just let him go for now."

As Harry, Sirius, and Tonks begin to descend the massive spiralling staircase of Azkaban, they speak in hushed tones.

"Now's your chance to get at that naive fool of a Minister!" says Sirius.

"I'm just a fifteen year old kid, like he said. Not like I'm some supreme political egghead who runs everything. No, we wait until Voldemort returns."

"And then what?" asks Tonks. "I hope you're not planning anything dark and evil... Don't tell me Azkaban has twisted your mind? Are you okay? No, seriously, please tell us you're alright. I mean, I've never really been in here before and I can only imagine the horrors you've had to endu—"

Harry laughs a slight bit. "It's... sort of okay, I guess. Nothing can break me."

"You're a braver man than me, Harry." Sirius holds him close as they near the ground floor of the prison. "Forget that mine was twelve years compared to your three months. You wouldn't believe how terrible it was knowing you were in here and I couldn't do anything. I'm _truly_ sorry for all this."

"Gotta focus on the positives and not dwell on the past like these dementors would want." Harry's expression turns quite stern indeed. "I am gonna sue the hell out of the Ministry for false imprisonment though. It's only a matter of time after Voldemort becomes public knowledge that people will realize I was trying the Killing Curse on him. Can't wait to see my bank balance probably double up then."

After passing through the entrance room, the group exits to stand outside the towering structure. Now Harry sees the Aurors' outpost being decommissioned as the Minister no longer sees it necessary to have them stationed here. Sirius, meanwhile, walks towards Kingsley Shacklebolt standing at the edge of the island while Harry speaks with Tonks.

"Shouldn't we keep your colleagues here?" asks Harry. "Your aunt was mentioning Voldemort coming to free them all one day."

"It's no use." Tonks shakes her head before continuing. "It was bad enough, even in shifts, to be stationed so close to all these dementors. I've had more than a few thoughts of you dying, and Sirius being heartbroken. But now that you're out we can pack up and leave things to the dementors."

"Stupid, stupid idea if you ask me. Because Voldemort mentioned the dementors as being his 'natural allies'. Can't you take that up with your bosses? Or perhaps that Bones lady?" asks Harry.

"Most of the Ministry denies your allegations, Harry. Whatever we argue is just going to get lost in the paperwork and pointless meetings. Maybe they do need a wake-up call after all." Tonks now tries to neaten his (even more than usual) unruly hair with her hands. "So, looks like you've actually met my crazy aunt after all."

"Yeah, I guess I have." Harry looks past Tonks to watch Sirius speaking quite animatedly with an equally concerned Shacklebolt.

"You should've seen Sirius over the last three months back home. Even with the Order all coming to plan and visit, he was like a broken man. It really wasn't nice to see him trying to act brave when we all knew you're scared and alone in this hellhole," says Tonks.

"I can imagine," mutters Harry, before Tonks carries on speaking.

"And he wasn't the only one, you know. Everyone's mood was low, even those funny Weasley twins weren't at their happiest over the holidays. Ginny tried to act brave but she was clearly worried about you, and poor Molly was in constant tears. I'm not even going to mention Hermione, no, she was just... lemme just say that you've got a lot of people caring about you, little Slytherin."

"Well, it's over. It's finally over and done with now. When I kill Voldemort one day I'm going to remember these terrible three months as I deliver a nice, big, fat, _Avada Kedavra_ to him."

Sirius now comes rushing over to speak.

"The Ministry's not going to bother stationing anyone out here after you're gone, Harry. I guess Dumbledore could only get everyone to stay this long. Kingsley doesn't trust the dementors at all but we don't have a choice. Let's get out of here and head back home."

"I need to go home indeed, Number 4 Privet that is. I don't care how funny this is for them but that protection needs to stay. Remember that I haven't been there all year so far in '95, and it's already October!" Harry's concerns are soon considered by Sirius.

"Are you sure!? We can head to Grimmauld right now and get you cleaned up."

"I agree with Harry," says Professor Dumbledore himself, who's seemingly Apparated onto Azkaban island. He then swiftly approaches to place his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Are you alright? I can understand if you need to take some time off... although the school year's already well underway."

"The Blood Protection, sir?" asks Harry, to which Dumbledore smiles.

"Nice to see you've considered that. My apologies, Sirius, but I'm going to need Harry to stay awhile at the Dursleys again. I know you'd love to join him but your presence will undoubtedly cause much agitation."

"Idiots," scoffs Sirius. "You'd think after knowing that I've been exonerated they'd stop being so bloody scared of me. Look, Harry, if they give you even the _slightest_ of difficulty..."

"I think you might find your stay a little... different," says Dumbledore to Harry. "Because I've explained to them quite clearly what you've had to endure over these past three months."

"What about my wand? Has it been fixed?" Harry's question elicits a slightly amused look from Dumbledore.

"Wands cannot be repaired, as I'm sure you all know. However, I've consulted with Mr. Ollivander and he's agreed to try something out, so leave it to us."

"Sir." Harry's expression turns quite bitter. "I... I don't know if this will work but there's something I feel that must be done."

"Let's hear it then," says Dumbledore.

"Everyone's accusing me of murdering Alyssa, everyone thinks I'm the next Dark Lord, and I've had to endure Azkaban for such false claims..."

"Not everyone," replies Dumbledore.

"Unfortunately, the Incantato did show your wand casting the Killing Curse after the third task," says Tonks, before Harry continues.

"Could you ask Mr. Ollivander to make my new wand with Fawkes' feather encased in Yew wood?"

"Yew?" Dumbledore appears briefly surprised. "Harry, you do realize who uses a wand like that, correct? And besides, wands don't work that way. You cannot build your own one."

"Please, sir, I just feel that Voldemort's arrogance deserves to be beaten by an identical wand. Priori or not, I'm going to kill him one day."

"I do find it very interesting that you've decided upon such a wand," says Dumbledore quite thoughtfully.

"Fine, just leave it then if it's too much of a hassle."

"He's nuts," laughs Tonks. "Wands choose the wizard, Harry, or haven't you been listening?"

"You wanna go around with a wand like Voldemort's?" asks Sirius. "Well if that's what it'll take to beat that son of a bitch then have at it!"

"It's worth a try," says Dumbledore. "Alright, I believe it's time for us all to leave this wretched island. Hope you enjoy your stay at the Dursleys, Harry."

"It should be getting dark now, lemme take you back to your Muggle family," says Tonks. "And I'll stick to this look now. No need to turn into a buff dude to scare them tonight, right?"

"Yep, so, side-along Apparition, eh? Alright then." Harry now holds Tonks' warm hand and smiles, for anywhere is surely better than Azkaban prison, right?


	2. Reunions and Plans

_Number 4, Privet Drive, October 4th, 1995._

Under cover of the darkened evening sky, Harry and Tonks now arrive at the doorstep of the Dursleys' home. The latter seems to have kept her usual pink-haired look as she leads Harry by the hand to ring the doorbell.

"Well here we are again, let's hope it's a decent reception. Wouldn't want you to put up with more rubbish after Azkaban," says Tonks, with a slight shudder.

"Since when are you so soft and motherly, Nymphadora?"

She gives him a tight-lipped smile before replying. "I'll have mercy on the freed convict now, but don't expect to use my first name forever."

"Your name excites me."

"Pervert."

The door soon opens to a livid Uncle Vernon who immediately points his finger at Tonks.

"Now see here, missy. The only prison for this boy is our house, not some maniac mimblewimble torture institution!"

"Wait, what?" Harry doesn't know which emotion to feel, though he settles on amusement.

"So, now you know what your nephew's been through over the past few months. Take a good look at him for yourself." Tonks grabs Harry to place him in front of her.

"Serves him right for being abnor—" Vernon suddenly grabs at his chest in shock before stepping back. "Petunia, Dudley, come see how this boy looks!"

While the Dursleys scramble to the centre of the lounge in argument, Harry glances sadly at Tonks.

"Oh man, how bad is it? Really?"

She smiles at him before running her thumbs beneath his eyes.

"You're still a handsome little bugger, even with these baggy eyes and gaunt cheeks."

"So I'm actually ugly, eh?"

"Oh don't be so silly, Harry. Okay, if you're looking for a girl's point of view, I think you're still very cute."

"But you're not a female."

"You'd better not start this again," says Tonks firmly.

"You probably have a bigger wand than me, and I'm not talking about the one they snapped." Harry finally smiles before Tonks lightly smacks his head. Minutes later, Aunt Petunia approaches the doorway with a horrified expression.

"He's even uglier than usual."

"Well that's very comforting, thanks," replies Harry dryly, before Dudley jumps back in shock.

"Is that Potter? He looks like he's been in a horror movie or something—" Dudley's statement is cut off by a rather offended Tonks.

"Hey, kid, show some respect already. Yeah yeah you can laugh all you want but the guy who killed his parents is back. Surely Professor Dumbledore told you all this? You know, the old man who looks like your people's garden gnomes?"

Harry starts laughing at Tonks' description of the Headmaster.

"What? He kinda does in a way, just far taller."

"Yes of course, that old man has told us all about the Voldy-thingy on the loose," says Uncle Vernon, while waving his hand dismissively. "He tries anything against us and I'll shoot him."

"Guns are almost useless against the kinds of stuff that guy and his people can do," says Harry, who turns to look at his aunt. "My parents had wands and they couldn't do anything against him, so what good can a gun do?"

"Then dad will just buy a machine gun or bazooka or—"

"Dudley," sighs Harry. "Just don't. Those aren't even legal at all, and that Voldyman can block anything you Muggles throw at him. Nice try though."

"Um, aren't we going to at least talk inside? It's quite cold out here, you know," says Tonks.

"Oh no, not you!" says Uncle Vernon. "Boy, come inside, your friend can find her own way home."

"Goodnight, Dora," says Harry, while entering the house as Tonks waves.

"Cheers, Harry. Oh, and you can expect a letter sometime detailing the latest events. I'm not exactly sure what's going on or when your expulsion is going to be revoked."

Before the Dursleys can laugh, Harry smiles dryly at them. Meanwhile, Tonks walks around a nearby corner, and out of sight, before Disapparating to Sirius' place.

"So how did that girl go home, alone, at this hour?" asks Uncle Vernon, as the Dursleys and Harry take their seats in the lounge.

"Magic, yep. And because my wand's snapped there's no way they can blame me for doing anything. So it's all well and good now, except that I'm gonna be here for I dunno how long."

The look on Uncle Vernon's face turns triumphant as he shakes his finger at Harry while speaking.

"You see, boy? They falsely accuse you of murder, throw you to rot in jail, break your magic stick, and now you're stuck back here. Oh, and they expelled you from school! I told you that was all a bunch of hocus pocus freaky nonsense didn't I? Huh? Remember when that huge guy came to kidnap you back in '91? I did warn you they can't be trusted. Now look at you, basically an expelled delinquent!"

"The old man that looks like Father Christmas will make things right," says Harry.

"He's probably going to get you killed as well," mutters Aunt Petunia swiftly, before changing the topic as Harry looks at her. "So, how long are we going to have to hide you here, hmm?"

"'Hide' me?"

"Boy," sighs Uncle Vernon. "You're a fifteen year-old kid who doesn't attend any known school... or  _any_  school now for that matter. If someone catches even a glimpse of you at home all day long, then the cops will come knocking on our door! Summer holidays are finished, remember?"

"Oh great." Harry face-palms himself. "Last thing I need now is to be harassed by the EWS..."

"Or maybe this is your one and only chance to turn your back on that stupid freaky world and be normal." Uncle Vernon leans forward in his chair as if extending an offer to Harry. "It's a sign, boy, a sign that there could be some hope for you."

"That world is nothing but trouble," says Aunt Petunia in a scathing manner. "Some old man with a long beard coming to tell us what to do. Some kid who can't even dress himself properly, who reminds me of you, once came to brainwash my s— Nevermind, forget I said anything."

"The old man's Dumbledore, but who's this kid you're talking about?" asks Harry intriguingly.

"Forget it!" shrieks Aunt Petunia, whose sudden shout has even Uncle Vernon taken aback. "Now get in that bathroom, and get dressed properly before you also start wearing overlarge coats and too short jeans."

"Okay, sure."

"Wait a minute," says Uncle Vernon quite suspiciously. "The old man said you won that competition of yours, boy, so where's the quid?"

Harry now realizes that he hasn't received the Triwizard Tournament's prize money at all. Now he wonders whether the win was given posthumously to Alyssa, due to the allegations of murder on Harry's part. Therefore, he reckons that a visit Gringotts might be necessary. The sooner he appeases Uncle Vernon's expectations, the more bearable his stay might be.

"I'll, uh, need to stop by our world's bank to sort things out. Didn't exactly have time to plan in prison."

A tense few seconds pass by as Harry finds himself being eyed most cynically.

"That place near Charing Cross, right?" asks Uncle Vernon. "You said it was a shopping hub of sorts with a bank?"

"Yes, but I'll have to send an owl—" The Dursleys groan at this means of communication, before Harry rolls his eyes and continues. "—to some people to make sure I don't walk around unprotected. That pink-haired girl is like a policewoman in our world, sort of... well more like a secret agent kinda thing."

"Well, you'd better go wash first before sending anything." Aunt Petunia now looks at Uncle Vernon. "The money can wait until tomorrow."

"How much are we talking about here, boy?"

After pausing for some thought, Harry considers exchanging 500 Galleons to...

"Two and a half thousand Pounds."

Slapping his hand on the couch, Uncle Vernon appears triumphant. "It's about bloody time you paid us back for living and eating and sleeping here! You get us that prize money, got it, boy?"

"But, dad, what if he's spotted being home all day? Someone could see him through the windows," says Dudley, while gesturing towards Harry.

"Then I'll just stay away from the windows. What? You expect me to run off and sleep under the stairs like the good old days?"

For quite possibly the first time ever, Harry makes a comment that elicits slight laughter from his Muggle family. It's a good, if unknown, feeling to him.

"Alright, enough jokes. Get yourself in that bathroom and, well, what in the world are we going to do about his clothes? Throw that 'school' uniform away I say!" says Aunt Petunia, while grimacing at Harry's filthy uniform that he's been wearing for the past three months.

"Burn it, I say," mutters Uncle Vernon. "Or shove it in your trunk, since the old man brought it to your room the other day."

Once Harry's on his way to his bedroom on the first floor, he hears his Aunt spraying air freshener and wiping the couch where he'd sat. But it bothers him little as he enters his room to retrieve some Muggle clothing from his trunk.

"Gonna write a letter for you to send later, alright?"

Hedwig hoots excitedly from within her cage as Harry exits his room to walk across the first floor landing.

"Man, you stink!" says Dudley, while heading to his room on the first floor. "And why the heck is there a snake picture on that so-called uniform?"

"Because my school is divided into four Houses where students can end up in."

"But why is yours a snake? Aren't there better 'Houses' there? No dinosaurs or tigers or sharks or whatever?"

"Don't you think it suits me fine?" Harry stands at the bathroom door while grinning mischievously. "Remember the zoo from four years back?"

"I'm gonna go play PlayStation now, don't wanna talk about weirdo stuff."

It's only when Harry locks the bathroom door and approaches the mirror that he gasps in horror. Truly, Azkaban has taken its toll on him as his cheeks are indeed gaunt. Dark circles surround his eyes while his pale skin seems almost stretched across his face.

"Damn, what the hell?"

But it's not as bad as he recalls Sirius appearing after his lengthy stay in Azkaban. The green eyes staring back at Harry in the mirror convey a sense of hope, and he therefore smiles. This is followed by the first warm, relaxing bath he's had in over three months as Harry lays back in the tub. Looking left, he sighs upon seeing his filthy robes which the Dursleys would never shove in their washing machine. But at least the soothing warmth of an evening bath has him finally easing up.

Later on, Harry begins writing a letter to Sirius requesting him and Tonks' presence tomorrow morning. After securing it to Hedwig, Harry sends the snowy owl on her way before he tucks himself in. Finally, a decent night's sleep which he feels could be the best one he's yet had at the Dursleys. He reckons that nothing could be worse than Azkaban, not even this place.

But he can't seem to drift off properly now, not unless he checks up on old friends. Therefore, Harry withdraws the Marauder's Map from his trunk and immediately activates it.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The Slytherin common room appears to be rather crowded in the evening, especially as one particular name stands in its centre:

_"Theodore Nott_."

A sickening feeling builds from within as Harry surveys the surrounding names and wonders what's happening. Nott's dot appears to be surrounded by Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Montague, and Vaisey. But as Harry sees another semi-circle of dots gathering nearby, he realizes what might be going on here.

"Bastards..."

Either one of the aforementioned names has to be Captain now, probably Montague, and it seems as if drastic changes have been made. Standing in the second semi-circle are:  _Yasmin Shafiq_ ,  _Cassius Warrington_ ,  _Miles Bletchley_ , and  _Adrian Pucey_.

It doesn't take Harry long to assume that whoever's succeeded Marcus Flint as Captain has kicked out all friendly faces towards Harry. No doubt there might be some 'Anti-Potter' chants and mockery going on from the new Slytherin Quidditch team, and last year's Anti-Potter minority. It hurts Harry to see all of Flint's work be dismantled in such a crude manner, even more so since Montague's turned sour last year already.

Fifth-year means a new set of Prefects for each House, and Harry now wonders just who might Slytherin's be? But he soon has a very good guess as the two semi-circles of Quidditch players close up on each other. A potential face-to-face confrontation that is stopped as the dot of  _Pansy Parkinson_  moves between them. She now approaches Malfoy, and Harry wonders if that snob could be a Prefect too? If so, then Pansy might be reminding him to stop confrontations rather than provoke them.

Elsewhere, Harry eventually views the Hufflepuff common room where many names are gathered in a circle around Cedric Diggory. From the looks of things it seems he's addressing his fellow Housemates about something. Hopefully, it's a pro-Harry speech to spread some goodness across the school.

A similar scenario seems to be happening at Ravenclaw, where Harry spots Cho Chang in the centre of a crowded common room too, much like Cedric's doing.

In the Gryffindor common room, dots seem to be spread all over causing Harry to zoom in for better accuracy. Ron Weasley's dot seems to be where Harry recalls a few tables being. Around him are Fay Dunbar and Eloise Midgen. Also seated (or standing? Harry can't be too sure) nearby are Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Roger Malone. All five Gryffindor fifth-year boys seem to be congregated near one corner of the room.

The dot of  _Hermione Granger_  near the fireplace has Harry's heart skipping a beat. He recalls how comfortable it had been back in third year when she smuggled him into the common room to cosy up at the fireplace. It pains Harry to imagine the look on Hermione's face now that he's actually been expelled from school, got his wand snapped, and served time in Azkaban. At least she has some comfort in the form of Crookshanks who Harry now spots as being on her lap.

While the sounds of Dudley enjoying his PlayStation may be heard across the first floor landing, Harry reckons the Marauder's Map proves far more entertaining. Elsewhere in the common room, it seems that Ginny Weasley's pacing up and down restlessly while the twins and Lee Jordan are gathered in another corner.

After deciding to view Professor Dumbledore's office, Harry spots a variety of staff members including McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Sinistra, Madam Hooch, Flitwick, Grubbly-Plank, and Trelawney. Then he sees Moody in Dumbledore's office even though scrolling to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Office shows a  _Dolores Umbridge_.

"Okay, what the hell?"

Closer inspection reveals even a  _Remus Lupin_  amidst the group which surprises Harry. Perhaps Dumbledore's working on getting the latter's expulsion revoked, therefore he'd require backing from current and former staff members?

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BOOM!_

The sounds of gunfire and explosions echo loudly from Dudley's room as he's still getting through his videogame. This leaves an annoyed Harry to try and ignore the action while focusing harder on his Map.

After navigating back to the Gryffindor common room, he spots a variety of names near another corner of the room. Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Fred and George, Cormac McLaggen, and Ginny seem to be gathered in a semi-circle. No doubt they're planning and discussing this year's Quidditch season. Harry's never liked the arrogant McLaggen, and neither does he admire any of the current Slytherin Quidditch team members.

"Wait a minute."

A most outlandish idea now forms in his head, something that makes him struggle to contain his laughter.

"I am so bored..."

Since he's due to visit Diagon Alley with Sirius and Tonks at some point, Harry tries to find an old piece of parchment from Hermione. After rummaging through his trunk, and through old books, he finally finds a list he'd once demanded from the girl.

_"Leeches, powered bicorn horn, knotgrass, fluxweed (picked at full moon), lacewing flies (stew 21 days), shredded boomslang skin, essence of target."_

What better (and safer) way to get at his foes than to humiliate them at school, including Quidditch? Harry recalls seeing the talent of Ron as Keeper at the Burrow, although he's always lacked confidence at Hogwarts. If there could just be a nicely hidden room somewhere in the castle... then he'd use Dobby to side-along Apparate from Grimmauld.

All it would take is getting Dumbledore's permission (which, hopefully, wouldn't be too hard) and Hermione's knowledge to get the fun going. But sending an owl straight to Dumbledore is too risky now, as Harry recalls the possibility of them being intercepted at school.

"Mischief managed."

The following morning sees Harry up and early to get himself some breakfast. Given his somewhat withered appearance (and incoming prize money), the Dursleys now seem less finicky over his raiding of their fridge.

"Take what you want but don't ask us to cook it," says Aunt Petunia. "And don't you dare waste our food, you hear?"

"Yes, of course, thanks."

"Boy, we're taking Dudley to school later on. Where's your people going to meet you? Not outside on our lawn, I hope?" asks Uncle Vernon.

In a most timely manner, Harry receives Sirius' reply via Hedwig which states that he and Tonks will meet up at the Leaky Cauldron.

"... _and put on a hoodie, just for caution's sake."_

After sitting down for a decent breakfast with the Dursleys, Harry slips on some rather plain clothing (including a hoodie) before getting into the car as sunrise nears. The drive to Charing Cross proves rather uneventful before Harry raises his hood and climbs out.

"Don't be back before sunset, understand? I don't want unnecessary attention drawn to us. Remember: you're supposed to be at a secure facility for the incurably criminal boys," says Uncle Vernon sternly. "And don't expect us to come pick you up here again. Find your own way home."

"Thanks, see you all tonight." Harry swiftly heads towards the Leaky Cauldron where he meets up with Sirius and Tonks at the back of the pub.

"Wotcher, Harry. You smell loads cleaner and you sure look a tiny bit better."

"Hi to you too, Dora."

Sirius grabs Harry into a hug before checking to see if he's alright.

"They didn't give you hell, did they?"

"Nah, the Dursleys were alright, I guess."

"Right," says Tonks. "You still got the Trace on you but I pulled some strings with a few friends. If anybody tries anything then Sirius and I will get 'em good, and you don't have to worry about getting into trouble."

"What's the plan for today?" asks Sirius, while looking at Harry. The latter soon explains about Gringotts and the Apothecary.

"Wait a minute, are you serious?" asks Tonks, before Harry shrugs.

"No, that's him."

"Oh, very funny, Harry." Sirius laughs for a bit before looking at his godson incredulously. "So, lemme get this straight: you want to get back at those who are probably mocking you at school, correct?"

"Yep."

"And you wish to brew Polyjuice Potion with Hermione so you can turn into Ron Weasley, right?"

"Yep yep."

"I think it's brilliant!" declares Tonks quite happily. "But how are we going to smuggle you into school? Not to mention that you don't have a wand."

Lowering his voice to a whisper, Harry leans forward as they stand at the back of the pub. "House elf magic bypasses Hogwarts' enchantments. Shhhhhh."

"Don't bother with Kreacher, waste of space."

"No man, Sirius, I meant Dobby. You know, the free elf that's more than happy to help me out?"

"That's a big security risk, you know," says Tonks.

"No Death Eater nor even Voldemort would  _ever_  resort to using House Elves to get into Hogwarts. Dumbledore knows that too," replies Harry. "But just think how furious it'd make Theodore Nott Jr. and his cronies when a—pardon me—'Blood traitor' owns them."

"I hate people like that, always mocking others because of their blood and stuff." Tonks' expression turns quite firm indeed. "Sirius, I say we get Harry to shut some 'elitist' wannabes up at school."

"So you'll finally get to live out your dream of being a Gryffindor? Hahaha, welcome to the good side."

Harry narrows his eyes at Sirius.

"Not all Slytherins are bad, you know. Hey, Tonks, I think Sirius is implying that your mum's also evil..."

"It's two on one now, Sirius, Harry's got a point."

"Whoa there, relax, I was just joking." Sirius gestures for them to be on their way. "Let's tap that brick."

As Sirius walks towards the brick wall behind the pub, Harry gives a sly look at Tonks.

"I'd tap this brick."

"Didn't you have enough time to play with yourself in prison, pervert?"

"It's never enough, hahaha!" Harry follows Sirius through the archway and into Diagon Alley. "Back in the abnormal freak world, yes, ow!"

Tonks grabs him into a headlock from behind, while bending forward to scowl at him.

"You take that back, convict."

"I take it back!"

"Good."

"When you're done bullying my godson, Tonks, Gringotts is straight ahead," calls Sirius from a few metres away. Meanwhile, Tonks softly laughs while looking at the frowning Harry.

"So, you don't have a wand, and you're being taken through Diagon Alley by two adults? Awww, look at the little child heading off for his first day of school."

"Oh, shut up. Yeah, this 'child' lost his wand after duelling with Voldemort, and then he got expelled from school. Ha-ha how very funny you are."

"Did I touch a nerve?" asks Tonks, as the trio soon step into the vast marble hall of Gringotts bank. Having managed to keep Harry relatively unnoticed thus far outside certainly comes as a relief.

"Let's get this over with," mutters Harry. "I've never liked these goblins."

Sirius leads the way towards a free goblin at a counter before requesting a withdrawal.

"And Mr. Potter's key, sir?"

"Here we go." Sirius shows the vault key given to him by Harry. With everything in order, they soon board a small cart before heading to Harry's vault.

"How much do you reckon I might need?" asks Harry, before Tonks seems to be pausing for thought.

"Those ingredients won't be very cheap, especially if you're planning on multiple doses. It's your call."

"Oh that's very helpful." Harry sighs before turning to question the goblin about the Triwizard Tournament's prize money. In response, the latter appears slightly offended.

"This is just a bank, Mr. Potter, what more do you think we do here? Take those questions to your Ministry."

"I know about Bagman..." replies Harry, which causes him to briefly explain the situation with a confused Sirius and Tonks.

"We all know about Ludovic Bagman," says the goblin, with a look of disgust on his face. "Owed us a lot of money on that bet he's just lost. More than one bet, actually. He was banking on you winning the Tournament but that's not how we see it. Double touch means there were two winners, well, unless your Ministry revokes your victory for murder."

"How much are we talking about here, exactly?"

"That is confidential information, Mr. Potter."

"Well, he's never going to pay you back, is he?"

"And for good reason, the fool," replies the goblin. "7350 Galleons, since you're so curious."

"Idiot's never gonna ever get that kind of money, just take it from my vault then." Harry's statement has Sirius and Tonks nearly falling off the cart as they near vault 687.

"WHAT? Are you nuts? How can you just waste your parents' money like that?" asks a bewildered Sirius.

"I think your godson's spent way too much time in Azkaban!" says Tonks.

"The hell do I care? I can do whatever I want," replies Harry. "That's not too much of a dent in my cash anyway."

"Well, aren't you noble?" scoffs the goblin mockingly. "We'll find a way to notify that idiot of his debt repaid. Here we are, vault 687, currently holds 37,449 Galleons in total."

"It's your cash, Harry," says Sirius. "But now you're gonna dip below thirty thousand in one visit. You sure you wanna do that?"

"Mr. Potter has already made an arrangement, I'd suggest not backing out of this promise," says the goblin, before Harry gestures towards him.

"Yeah, what he said."

Once they've unlocked the door, Harry enjoys the expression on Tonks' face as stockpiles of Galleons come into view. But he enjoys it even more as a noticeable chunk is soon taken away by the goblin, and set in another cart.

"Bloody mental, that's what you are, Harry. A bloody mental pervert."

"How much would it cost for a  _special_  dance right here, Nymphadora?" Harry's smirk is then slapped away by Tonks.

"I'll just pretend that you're a bit unhinged from jail. Sirius, maybe you should counsel Harry on keeping his weapon in check before we get little Blacks running around."

"Potters, you mean," says Harry. "Or maybe... hehehe... little Tonkses?"

"So you'll bang my father?"

"Oh you did  _not_  just twist my joke, Nymphodora."

"HEY—"

"Can we get this transaction finished already?" asks the goblin, before Harry decides upon taking 300 Galleons for himself.

This is followed by withdrawing an additional 500 to be converted to Pounds in the marble hall. As they leave, the goblin declares that there's around 29,299 Galleons worth of coin left in the vault. Eventually, the trio exchange the coins for twenty-five £100 notes at a counter.

"I'll shove those in my jacket," says Sirius, as they exit the bank and return down the road whence they've came. Next up is the apothecary (which now sits to the entrance wall's right), where Harry lets Tonks do the purchasing.

"Brewing Polyjuice Potion, eh? Quite a lot by the amount your hooded friend is wanting," says the store clerk. "For 230 Galleons he can get enough to brew an average of about ten cauldrons."

Tonks sees Harry giving a thumbs up, then she winks at him before replying to the clerk:

"Oh, we're just looking to spice up our love life, add some flavour, you know?"

"Lucky lad that is. Here's everything you need, well, besides whoever you're looking to impersonate." The clerk accepts 220 Galleons for Harry's desired list before packing everything into a sealed bag.

"I heard what you said, Dora," says a blushing Harry, while walking beside Tonks as Sirius taps open the brick wall again.

"Now don't go getting a boner over all that," she responds with a laugh. "Got you a 10 Galleon discount, didn't I? Say: 'thank you, boss'."

"Thank you, mistress."

"Pervert."

Since it's now broad daylight, Sirius and Tonks decide against disapparating to Claremont Square with Harry. Instead, they risk using Muggle transport (with Tonks paying from her own spare change) through the jam-packed streets of London.

While sitting beside Tonks on the back seat, Harry sighs. "Traffic is like hell out here."

"Why we going to Claremont Square now? It's nearly half-past eight so shouldn't you be going to school, boy?" asks the taxi driver.

"He's quite sick," says Tonks, while nudging Harry in the side.

After coughing a bit and leaning over in pain (deliberately on Tonks' lap) Harry speaks hoarsely:

"Very sick... need to lie down at home... I'm really sick."

"Sick in the head, yeah," whispers Tonks.

"Well you'd better not be missing out on too much work today. Stormy weather like this could knock out the power and it's already not so bright," says the driver.

With the taxi basically crawling in bumper-to-bumper traffic, Sirius locks eyes with Harry in the rear view mirror.

"Maybe you should take a nap while we keep watch around."

"Keep watch for what?" asks the taxi driver. "What are you folks up to?"

"Keep watch for heavy rain, otherwise the boy's gonna get more sick," replies Tonks, although Harry knows they're keeping a lookout for suspicious individuals. Who knows where a Voldemort supporter might be lurking these days?

Seizing the opportunity, Harry rests his head on Tonks' shoulder which elicits an amused whisper from her.

"Such a blooming baby at times, unbelievable."

After about half an hour's drive, the trio are dropped off at their destination before entering number 12, Grimmauld Place.

"Shhh, remember my mother... and don't trip over the stand, Dora," whispers Sirius, as they tip-toe through the long hallway before entering the dining room. Once inside, they're safely able to speak at normal tone. "You might notice the place's a bit cleaner than last year."

"Yeah," says Harry. "Even more so than with everybody helping last time."

"They even got rid of the boggart in the drawing room," says Tonks. "Hermione tried... and let's just say it was a bit emotional."

"Professor McGonagall failing all her exams again?"

"No, it was you, Harry," replies Sirius quite softly. "You sitting on the ground, soulless, empty, and nothing but a broken shell of a boy in Azkaban."

"Oh..."

Tonks squeezes Harry on the shoulder before adding: "Ginny stepped in next and, funnily enough, the boggart stayed unchanged. Same deep-seated fear but she toughed it out, although it was a quiet few minutes after that. Quiet for everyone here."

"I think any of us, from Molly to Arthur to Remus to Tonks... anyone really... could have possibly had the boggart turn to that," says Sirius, before Harry looks apologetically at him.

"I didn't mean to cause so much grief, sorry."

"Don't blame yourself, kid, we mostly understand how you must've felt in that graveyard." Tonks leads Harry to a seat at the lengthy table. "Nobody's perfect and we all have our moments. It's just unfortunate that you're a little rascal who's used the Killing Curse."

"Poor Mad-Eye," laughs Sirius. "He wasn't sure what to feel, either guilt at having taught it, anger at the unfairness, or being impressed that you pulled such a spell off."

"Well here I am," sighs Harry. "Sitting without a wand in a place where I could be going over some magic."

" _Trace_  my arse, they probably can't track us property here nor pinpoint who's doing it," says Sirius. "Use my wand and refresh yourself after going through hell in Azkaban."

"Wands choose the wizard, so it's not going to be the same. Hell, I might just suck so badly at casting anything now."

"We won't laugh at you, honest," says Tonks kindly. "I'm up for afternoon duty today so... shall we have some fun together? Casting spells I mean, not what you're thinking, Harry."

"Oh, by the way," says Sirius. "You might be interested to know that that portrait in the bedroom is of Phineas Nigellus Black, my great-great-grandfather. Least popular Headmaster Hogwarts ever had."

"He's a sarcastic git from what I remember last year. Always sniggering and laughing in that empty portrait," replies Harry.

"Well I'm going to have a chat with him, since his other end is right in Dumbledore's office. Cool, huh?"

"Wicked."

"And when you're done informing Dumbledore of Harry's plans, I think you ought to show the baby"—Tonks pinches what's left of Harry's cheeks—"the family tree in the drawing room."

"Good idea." Sirius heads off to the bedroom portrait who, reluctantly, takes to helping him pass messages to Professor Dumbledore. He eventually returns to the dining room to inform Harry that the latter will be allowed back into the school, provided that he remains undetected.

"Dad's Cloak will definitely come in handy for that," says Harry. "Not to mention the Map which means all that's missing is a wand for me."

"Dumbledore mentioned Mr. Ollivander having started on working some stuff together. It might take a while because they've still got to convince the Wizengamot to revoke your ban on getting a wand."

"The what?"

"Wizengamot is basically like the high court of law in the wizarding world here," replies Sirius. "Politics and legal stuff everywhere."

"So far, they're aware that it's Sirius and I performing magic around you when the Trace shows. But unless Dumbledore gets in good to revoke your ban then it's going to look suspicious for you to be Traced every time," says Tonks.

"But why am I not at my own court trial then?" asks Harry.

Sirius smiles before replying. "Because Dumbledore knows what he's doing. The next hearing is in a few days' time and it's best if you're not present to be provoked. Some of the pro-Fudge diehards will no doubt be looking to make you lose your temper, and thereby lessening the chances of you getting permission for another wand."

"I can control my temper."

"No doubt there, Harry, but we're talking a courtroom full of uptight, annoying, and smart-arsed legal folks. They'd know how to work you up without showing it," replies Sirius.

"Well then, I guess I'll practice some magic here a bit before heading back to the Dursleys later today," says Harry, which is exactly what he ends up doing as well as letting Sirius discuss the Black family tree with him.

By late afternoon's end, before preparing to leave for Privet drive again, Harry receives a surprise visit from Dobby. The elf seems to have left Malfoy manor of his own accord due to the unfairness shown towards Harry by many, including Draco himself.

"They is very bad people, sir! Dobby was happy to work there again only because Harry Potter sir asked and paid. But now Dobby thinks it's best to avoid that place where they all dislike Harry Potter."

While sitting on the floor in the drawing room, Harry smiles. "Good on you, pal. So where do you plan on working next?"

"Professor Dumbledore has already given Dobby a paid job at Hogwarts, since before Harry Potter was sent to Azkaban!" replies Dobby quite excitedly.

"Well I hope that finally makes the Malfoys realize what they're missing. Let them do their own damn work from now on. Why did I even let you go back there?" asks Harry confusedly. "Well at least I paid you for it."

"Dobby has also come to bring Harry Potter a message, sir."

"Alright, let's hear it then."

"Professor Dumbledore said Harry Potter would be needing somewhere to hide if Dobby helps Harry Potter back into the castle, right? Well Dobby knows just the place! On the seventh floor corridor there is a room that Dobby had accidentally found while moving around Hogwarts."

"Yeah," says Harry. "I also remember finding a weird room there that I just couldn't get back into. Had lots and lots and lots of junk stored there."

"Doesn't sound like the room Dobby has found but maybe Harry Potter had different needs. Dobby heard from the other house elves that it is called the Come and Go Room, or Room of Requirement! "

"Brilliant! How does it work?"

Dobby then explains what he knows about using the room of requirement, which has Harry grinning widely.

"Now that sounds like a plan! Could you do me a favour and try to tell Hermione Granger about me coming back, in private?"

"Dobby can do that, yes, sir! Dobby will find the Hermione Granger girl and tell her about Harry Potter's return when nobody is listening."

"Oh, and also tell her that Harry Potter says she's pretty."

"Dobby will do that too!" The elf now disapparates back to Hogwarts while Harry sits back and smiles.

But his joy is interrupted by a pang of regret in being unable to contact Fleur at all. Since she's back in France, it's far too tiring and risky to send an owl to her. Fire-calling is also a no-go due to the Ministry keeping watch on the Floo network. And Harry would rather not place her in danger by alerting others to his ever-present affection towards her.

With nothing else to do, he continues doing practical revision with Sirius' wand (yielding quite mixed results) as the afternoon moves on. By late evening, Sirius has Harry side-along Apparating to the Dursleys' place where Harry hands over the money.

"Now this is more like it! Yes, sir, I do say!" exclaims a chuffed Uncle Vernon, while counting out the many £100 notes.

They may not be overwhelmingly warm towards him, but Harry smiles in knowing that things are at least... pleasant from here on out.


	3. Back to School

Whether it be from handing over thousands of Pounds, or from looking dreadful after Azkaban, Harry's life at the Dursleys has somewhat improved. They're still snide on occasion but overall less hostile towards him as the days move on. But it's not without some odd moments as, one Monday morning, Harry finds himself sitting at the table near Uncle Vernon.

"See all these? No way your freakshow people can come and chase us around!"

While looking at a gun pamphlet of sorts, Harry hardly knows how to respond. Aunt Petunia, however, soon enters the dining room and gasps.

"Vernon, are those guns for sale?"

"Why of course they are. If Voldy-thingy thinks he can hunt us down then we need to be prepared. Maybe we ought to go big. What do you say, boy?"

"Voldyman can definitely do mimblewimble stuff to make a shield around himself. Bullets and whatever else will just bounce off... probably right back at the shooter."

"Stop bluffing," says Uncle Vernon.

"I could even do it if I had my magic stick again. Pity I'd get into lots of trouble doing that stuff in front of you folks."

"So what are we supposed to do, then? Just live our lives in fear of some madman lunatic nutter out there? I will not stand to put this family through that! No, sir, I will not."

"Relax, Uncle Vernon, because it's just me he wants."

"So you're endangering us by staying here?"

"That's  _why_  I'm here ever year. Complicated mimblewimble by the old man that looks like Father Christmas means neither Voldyman nor his people can harm us here. If I don't stay here enough then that mimblewimble stuff wears off which puts us all in danger."

"Sounds far too convenient for me, boy," replies Uncle Vernon. "Petunia, wouldn't everything be safer for us if we just kicked the boy out?"

"Are you really willing to take that risk?" asks Harry. "Kick me out, sure. Get your peace of mind, sure. Abnormal freak gone, sure. And then one morning you wake up to evil wizards pointing their wands at you in this very house. What's the harm in keeping one teenager around to avoid all that?"

After mumbling and discussing with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon nods while pointing his fork at Harry.

"If you weren't stuck in that bastard world of yours... smart-mouth like that would sell business here. Fine, you can stay."

"Dudleykins, get ready for school now," calls Aunt Petunia, while Harry takes to finishing some lamb chops for breakfast. Everyone soon takes their seats at the table before Uncle Vernon and Dudley head for the car. Harry, meanwhile, stays home and tries to avoid antagonising his aunt in the house. Last thing he needs is to have the Dursleys at their usual hostilities again.

"I'm going up to my room for some reading," he says, while standing up from the dining room table. Sitting across from him is Aunt Petunia who narrows her eyes.

"What reading?"

"Well since they snapped my wand, and I can't do anything here anyway, might as well hit the theory books."

"Just don't leave the room with them! Wouldn't want any visitors to see."

"Who's coming to visit? Everyone's too stuck in their own little lives around here," says Harry.

"Mrs. Figg will be stopping by around lunch, so keep any of 'your' stuff out of sight, smell, taste, etc."

Sighing at the prospect of Mrs. Figg visiting yet again, Harry barely avoids muttering 'that bitch' and instead simply walks away. He's never been fond of that woman since spending the occasional day at her house.

With nothing else left to do around here, Harry lays atop his bed while reading through old textbooks. It's easier said than done though, as every so often his mind brings up the graveyard yet again. After the sixth time unintentionally thinking of the late Alyssa, Harry shuts his fourth-year book and sighs.

"It's pointless trying to study through flashbacks..." he mutters before trying his luck yet again.

Another opening of his textbook is followed by images of Alyssa kicking her golden egg in frustration. Harry waits, tries to clear his mind, then opens the book again. Now he recalls seeing the Parkinson pair giggling over their magazine last year. It's as if opening his textbook reminds him of Pansy doing the same with her cousin, especially when she studied for her Potions exams.

"The hell is wrong with me?"

Harry sits up straight against the wall before setting the book aside. With theoretical revision currently being a no-go, he opts to view the Marauder's Map instead. After muttering the passphrase and opening up the parchment, Harry wonders where to view first.

It appears to be Potions now for fifth-year Gryffindor and Slytherin students as Harry sees the mass of names gathered outside the classroom. As he had expected, it appears that the Slytherin boys are confronting (or perhaps taunting?) the Gryffindor students. Meanwhile, Pansy Parkinson and the girls stand farther down the corridor, apparently keeping to themselves.

What follows is a scenario that Harry can picture right before him as Nott's dot approaches Neville's. Then, Hermione moves to have Nott retreat a few steps before Malfoy steps in (Prefect vs. Prefect, perhaps?). Next up, Ron moves to confront Malfoy before Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini step in. Finally, Pansy walks right up to Hermione before Professor Snape steps out the class. This is followed by the entire group now moving into class for their Potions lesson, and probably some points deducted from Gryffindor.

Elsewhere, Ginny's class seems to be having Defence Against the Dark Arts. But what Harry fails to understand is how they're all just sitting still on one place. For a class which he remembers as being pretty active under Lupin and Moody, these dots on the Map are hardly moving at all. The only one doing anything seems to be that of Umbridge pacing around the classroom.

Everything appears to be in full swing at Hogwarts, and yet Harry laments just sitting here at home. As the day moves on, he continues to watch the fifth years while also trying to ignore the idle talk between Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Figg downstairs.

Early afternoon sees Harry hurrying downstairs to grab some lunch before returning to his room. But try as he might, studying just seems impossible at this hour, nevermind the necessity to maintain his theoretical knowledge.

"Come on, focus, boy," he mutters to himself through gritted teeth. Then, another few seconds of reading has him again reaching out to the Map. Minutes turn to hours as Harry alternates between tracking Hermione and Pansy around the school. They cross paths on a few occasions but seemingly ignore each other in the corridors.

By evening, after spending dinner with the Dursleys then returning to his room, Harry's disgust is confirmed: He now views the Slytherin Quidditch team heading to the pitch for some practice. It is indeed comprised of Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Montague, Nott, Vaisey, and Zabini. Nobody else appears to be joining them now which indicates that this team is already finalised. No Adrian Pucey nor Yasmin Shafiq nor even Miles Bletchley at all.

"Nepotism at its bloody finest," says Harry, while wishing that he could put these snobs in their place. Or perhaps he can, as he grins while anticipating his return to school.

Something else also catches his eye while browsing through the many floors. On the fourth level, near the owlery, he spots Hermione and Pansy's dots approaching each other from either ends of the corridor. Then, to Harry's confusion, they both move to the middle-left of the corridor before coming to a halt. It's difficult to tell from simply looking at two dots, but it almost appears as if they're sitting or standing together. A most unlikely scenario (if true) indeed, especially given the closeness of the dots at this hour.

They're either bickering, fighting, threatening or—

"Oh damn, could it be? That'll be so hot..."

All manner of thoughts and images now run through Harry's mind, things he'd rather keep to himself. It hardly helps that he finds both of these girls attractive, and that they've certainly got antagonism towards each other. Opposites attract, perhaps?

To add to Harry's suspicions, he now spots Malfoy coming up the stairs to patrol the corridor. Almost immediately, Pansy and Hermione swiftly head off in separate directions before the former walks right past Malfoy. No stopping at all, according to what Harry's seeing on the Map. This also presents an opportunity to see who the other fifth-year Prefects might be.

Soon enough, after zooming out and browsing across the school, Harry spots them scattered about. Ernest Macmillan and Hannah Abbot for Hufflepuff. Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein for Ravenclaw. Hermione's obviously a Prefect for Gryffindor, but then Harry smiles incredulously upon seeing Ron Weasley on patrol of the first floor. He can scarcely believe his luck as the very person he's hoping to impersonate happens to be in a position of power.

But why Ron of all people, some might ask? Harry's response would be that he knows Ron's life better than any other Polyjuice target. Slytherin students are off-limits seeing as Harry's looking to get back at his male roommates... or former ones, since he's expelled. He's also quite familiar with the Gryffindor common room, as opposed to risking a drum beat for Hufflepuff or answering a riddle for Ravenclaw. But that's not to say the prospect of using one of his Polyjuice doses to get in elsewhere might be impossible.

"Hope you're enjoying it, you bastards." Harry continues to view the various dots swiftly moving around the Quidditch pitch, no doubt on their brooms.

So bored is Harry that he spends the next early morning spying on more students of Hogwarts. Cho appears to have joined Cedric at the Hufflepuff table. Ginny, Luna, and Neville seem to be seated together at Gryffindor's for breakfast. Then there's Dean and Seamus hanging out in the courtyards where they're... probably playing games before class?

Roger Malone, the fifth-year Gryffindor who Harry's least familiar with, seems to be walking around the castle's terrace with Mandy Brocklehurst and Lisa Turpin at this hour. Coming up from the dungeons are Pansy and the girls, which now sends a slight pang of longing through Harry.

The latter's Tuesday is spent within Number 4, Privet Drive, as he continues battling to study something... anything in his books. By evening, Harry sits at the table for another dinner with the Dursleys.

"... and so I told that gentleman very politely that his 'policy' isn't nearly as ingenious as he believes," says Uncle Vernon, while speaking about yet another day at work. This earns him a good bit of compliments from his wife with regards to his decision-making skills. "The boy's not doing anything odd at home, is he, Petunia?"

"Nothing of note."

"Good, what say you, boy?" Uncle Vernon looks across the table at Harry, who's just about finished his dinner.

"Still waiting to know what's happening in my world. Not sure when exactly I can go back to school... OUCH!"

Gasps and horrified expressions cross the Dursleys faces as Harry drops his fork to grab at his scar. It pains worse than it's ever done over the past few months, before a flash of anger and impatience fills him. Emotions which, Harry can tell, aren't quite his at the moment as Voldemort wants something done fast. But whatever it is happens to be getting nowhere, and it's infuriating.

"What is wrong with you, boy?" asks Uncle Vernon.

"Headache," replies Harry, "Just a very bad one. Think I'll go lie down."

"Headache or not, there are dishes to be done for the night," says Aunt Petunia. "Take some tablets then if it's so bad."

"No way am I doing dishes even if he's got a ache," says Dudley. "He'd better get it done."

"I'll do it, just give me a few moments to think..." Harry reckons that he needs to inform Sirius of his sudden flash of Voldemort.

Therefore, after getting his mundane duties done, Harry scribbles down a letter (vaguely requesting a return to Sirius' place) which he sends with Hedwig. This is followed by getting into bed and drifting off to sleep. Yet again, Harry sees a long, windowless corridor and one mysterious door while a strong desire to get in overwhelms him. Then he awakes to a cold Wednesday morning where Tonks shows up surprisingly early at the Dursleys' door.

"It's that girl again! Your people, boy."

"Uncle, aunt, I think it's time I began returning to my abnormal world."

So relieved are the Dursleys, that they even wish him an 'okay' year ahead before Harry greets Tonks at the door. Not wasting any time before sunrise, Harry swiftly packs his trunk before turning to the Dursleys.

"We're going to um, disappear, so to speak. It'll sound like a.. I dunno.. car backfiring or something since it's so quiet outside."

"Well, make it quick!" says a frightened Aunt Petunia. "Do it before the neighbours get up."

"Let's get going, Harry." Tonks exits the house, looks around to see nobody the wiser, and has Harry side-along apparating into Claremont Square. They soon cross the road before stepping into the hidden home of Sirius Black. Once in the dining room, Harry informs Sirius of what's he's felt last night, which brings a concerned look to his godfather.

"That's not exactly normal, Harry, grab your Cloak and I'll see if I can use old Phineas to contact Dumbledore. There's a reason you haven't received that owl which Tonks said Dumbledore might send."

"Fudge's minion is apparently checking a fair bit of owls entering and leaving the school from time-to-time. No doubt she's itching for anything headed  your way, and the Headmaster's taking no chances here," says Tonks. "I reckon Umbridge would very much prefer you being kept away from school, most definitely."

Sirius now exits the room to head up to Phineas' portrait in one of the upstairs bedrooms. This leaves Tonks and Harry sitting together at the dining table.

"I'd like to know how you're holding up. Everything still alright, Harry?"

He nods slightly while giving a faint smile. "As right as can be, although I really do miss school."

"Get that Potion right with your pal and you'll be roaming the corridors in no time. You sure you're up for this? Because if you aren't officially allowed back then you'd be breaking dozens of rules... if caught."

"You know, I've come to realise that at times like these there still are some pretty dependable people."

"I'd better be on that list," says Tonks.

"Of course, Dora. Then there's Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, and hopefully a few more when I get back."

Soon enough, Sirius returns to the dining room to inform Harry that Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with him.

"What about my trunk and stuff? Did he say I should bring them along?"

"Dobby will take care of that." Sirius now pulls Harry into a hug. "Be careful without a wand, Harry, be very careful. I'm pretty sure Professor Dumbledore's organized your new one, but remember that you're not actually allowed to own a wand. Rules be damned, yeah, but I'm not losing you to Azkaban again."

"Surely they wouldn't dump me there for just sneaking into school?"

"Hey, you never know these days," replies Sirius, just before Dobby appears in the dining room.

"Professor Dumbledore has sent Dobby to come fetch Harry Potter, sir! Does Harry Potter have his trunk and owl cage ready?"

"Yep, it's all packed and ready to go."

Harry takes a moment to smile at Tonks and shake Sirius' hand before letting Dobby disapparate. After a few seconds of discomfort, he looks around to see Professor Dumbledore's office come into view. A large and beautiful circular room filled with all manner of noises.

"Good morning, Harry, I trust you've enjoyed your stay at the Dursleys?"

Turning around to address the Headmaster standing in the centre of his office, Harry nods. "It was quite a decent few days, I'll admit."

While Dobby disapparates again to fetch Harry's stuff, the latter is offered a seat on a nearby chair by Dumbledore. Here they discuss what happened yesterday evening, as well as Harry's constant dreams

"These are quite troubling, I would not put it beyond Voldemort to exploit your flashes of him. Whether he knows about it is uncertain but it's clearly a risk that needs to be addressed. You are, after all, sitting right here in my office with the possibility of Voldemort eavesdropping on our conversation."

"I really don't think he knows about it, sir. Nothing feels odd, as if being subjected to  _Legilimency_ , I feel fine."

The Headmaster gives Harry an appraising look before responding.

"Hmm, but that's the most troubling part. Perhaps we ought to continue your Occlumency sessions, although I'd prefer that Professor Snape takes over."

"Are you afraid that Voldemort might use me to get at you, sir?"

"I wouldn't say such thoughts haven't crossed my mind but yes, that is a possibility indeed."

"If I may ask, how is it that I can actually see or feel the emotions of Voldemort himself? It's not really  _Legilimency_  because I don't even know how to do that. And there's no eye contact at all, which is a requirement as I've been told."

"You're far closer to Voldemort than you'd think, Harry. But now's not the time for that discussion. It's bad enough that Fudge and his minions are deluding themselves into seeing you as a future Dark Lord."

"What a bunch of idiots! Are they ever going to let me own a wand and return to school? If Hagrid wasn't allowed back then what are my chances?"

"Hagrid's case is unique in that it was, and still is, far easier for the Ministry to discriminate against him. No amount of defence could convince them to have him return to school..."

"Of course not," scoffs Harry. "Who wouldn't believe the accusations of the  _perfect_  student, Tom Marvolo Riddle? Funny how he turned out in the end..."

"Now then, I believe you might find something very useful on the table to the far left," says Dumbledore, gesturing for Harry to take a look.

The latter does as told and soon smiles in delight. For laying on the table is a wand which looks eerily familiar.

"Is this Voldemort's wand, sir? How did you get it? Have you found and beaten the heck out of him at last?"

Dumbledore slightly smiles before shaking his head. "No, Harry, that's yours. I collected it from Mr. Ollivander yesterday, but he had warned that you shouldn't touch it until we return to his store. Shall we be off?"

"To Diagon Alley?"

A pop echoes in the room as Dobby returns with Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage.

"That is the location of his store, yes. Ah, here we go, thank you, Dobby."

"Dobby was pleased to assist Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore, sirs. Dobby wishes Harry Potter a happy year ahead!" Dobby nods as Dumbledore instructs him to transport Harry's possessions to the Room of Requirement.

"I believe Miss Granger said their room of choice seems to be for practical and theoretical training. Your friends certainly are proactive indeed."

"What do you mean, sir?" asks Harry.

"Miss Granger has found Professor Umbridge's curriculum... less than satisfactory. This earned her a fair bit of detention which I've had to cease for reasons she can explain. Put on your Invisibility Cloak and follow me to the gates."

"We're going to disapparate from Hogsmeade, correct, sir?"

"Correct."

As instructed, Harry covers himself with his Cloak before following Professor Dumbledore out into the gargoyle corridor. It's a strange feeling to be tailing the Headmaster like this, especially considering the reactions (towards Dumbledore) of those he passes. With the bell now ringing for the start of lessons, students flock through the corridors. Many of them politely greet their Headmaster while others (mainly the anti-Potter crowd) scoff and snigger.

"Breakfast is already finished, Professor Dumbledore," says Umbridge as she exits the Great Hall. "Should we not be setting an example for the students?"

"I am merely going for a walk, Dolores, exercise is very good for our youth," replies Dumbledore, while Harry spots familiar faces exiting the nearby double doors. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and a few others stand frowning at the Defence Professor from behind.

Wordlessly, and with an annoyingly 'sweet' smile, Umbridge walks towards the marble steps. Meanwhile, Dumbledore greets the students before heading for the double doors, and Harry grins.

"...who does she think she is trying to boss around our Headmaster—" Hermione's sentence is interrupted by a gasp as Harry deliberately caresses her on the thigh while creeping past. She spins around in the direction of the castle's exit while those around her seem confused.

"What's up, Hermione?" asks Ron.

"I think... nevermind. We'll talk later, alright?"

Leaving the castle behind, Harry hurries along behind Dumbledore as the Headmaster approaches the gates. With a nod to Mr. Filch he exits while stalling enough to have Harry slip out as well before they approach Hogsmeade. After stepping into a quiet side-street, Harry removes the Cloak before grabbing Dumbledore's hand to be transported right outside Ollivanders.

"Let's not draw too much attention, quick, inside."

"Yes, sir."

They step into the store, causing a tinkling bell to ring somewhere inside. For Harry, it feels quite odd to be returning here like a first year student, especially as the very back of his neck now prickles again. There's certainly magic in the air here indeed.

"Good morning," says Mr. Ollivander. "Just who I was expecting! Dear me, Dumbledore, but Mr. Potter's certainly taken a beating from Azkaban."

Harry sighs while Dumbledore greets Mr. Ollivander.

"By law, Mr. Potter, you aren't allowed to own a wand unless pardoned. But of course special arrangements can be made for some folks, yes?" Ollivander looks at Dumbledore who returns a smile.

"Do ensure that nobody sees you or that wand in school, Harry," says Dumbledore. "With exception, of course, such as Miss Granger and her little group."

Mr. Ollivander has Harry's wand passed to him by Dumbledore before setting it on the nearby countertop.

"These are dark times indeed where one can hardly trust one's own friends. You should be very careful so as to avoid being seen even by your own Housemates," says Mr. Ollivander. "At least until the legalities are set aside. My, my, what a strange request this was to build a wand so similar to You-Know-Who's. I'd imagine he'd be right furious if he ever found out."

"Oh he will," says Dumbledore. "It's only a matter of time until they duel again, I'm sure."

"What happened to my previous wand, sir?" asks Harry, while looking at Mr. Ollivander.

"Wands cannot be repaired, Mr. Potter, I trust you know that? We've had no choice but to... destroy it. Believe me when I say you have my condolences for your loss. An outrageous decision by the Minister."

Harry looks down in a moment of silence for his old faithful holly wand, before feeling right anger towards Voldemort.

"Give that wand a try, Harry, and let Mr. Ollivander decide."

Following Dumbledore's request, Harry grabs hold of his wand and gives it a wave. Almost immediately, multicoloured sparks shoot from its end, throwing specks of light onto the walls.

"Now that is even more interesting than when I sold you your first wand. People don't just waltz in and grab one they've 'ordered', oh no, sir." Mr. Ollivander appears to be giving thought to something while Dumbledore seems even more thoughtful.

"Very interesting indeed, Harry, though I suppose Lord Voldemort will take it as a great personal insult to see you walking around like that. Quite a hit on his rather large ego, if I must say."

"And he'll no doubt subject me to a round of questioning about it one day," says a slightly nervous Mr. Ollivander.

"In that case, you're free to inform him that I  _convinced_  you to design it," says Dumbledore.

"I'm going to kill him and that's that," adds Harry firmly. "I don't care how much greater, stronger, and more fearsome than me he is, there has to be a way someday."

"What a brazen personality we have right here. I guess it's no wonder that yew's taking to you. Now, there's something you need to understand, Mr. Potter. When your original wand connected with You-Know-Who's in the graveyard, as I've been informed, it might've absorbed some of its brother's power. A slight bit. So now, as much as this bothers me to say, you will need to trigger the  _Priori Incantatem_  again. Ahem, well, we have to respect formalities so... 7 Galleons please?" asks Mr. Ollivander.

"Take 20 and keep the change for such good work," replies Harry, while handing over the coins. "Although I must admit that it feels strange."

"You'll need time to get used to that wand," replies Mr. Ollivander. "Don't expect to simply pick up where you left off. In some sense, you're like a first year with regards to casting spells. But don't worry, I'm sure you're a fast learner."

"I can vouch for Harry, yes."

"Well, looks like you've got the permission of both your wand and Albus Dumbledore. Do make some good with thirteen-and-a-half inches of yew, phoenix core."

With everything set, Harry swiftly exits the store to side-along apparate back to Hogsmeade.

"Let's get back to school, oh, and don't forget to think very clearly for the Room to appear on the seventh floor. Your possessions are in a room off Miss Granger's chosen layout."

Dumbledore leads the invisible Harry back towards the gates as a drizzle begins to fall. Fortunately, the Headmaster effortlessly shields them from the growing storm while making their way up to the viaduct courtyard.

"Thank you very much, sir. Hope my case goes well," whispers Harry before trying out a cleaning spell (with minimal results) on his shoes and Cloak. Any leftover rain and mud are swiftly vanished by Dumbledore as the pair head their separate ways at the grand staircase.

With nothing else to do, Harry ascends to the seventh floor before beginning his search for that stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry. It seems to be just the place where he attempted to hide from Mr. Filch last year, before falling backwards into a gigantic room. This time, however, Harry concentrates hard on needing the so-called 'training place' decided upon by Hermione. Soon enough, a highly polished door appears in the wall which Harry enters while still invisible.

"Aaa! My ears!"

He's greeted to a swarm of Sneakoscope noise which only subsides once he removes the Invisibility Cloak to reveal himself.

"Flippin' hell, thanks, Hermione."

Mumbling to himself, Harry walks through the spacious room lit by flickering torches. It certainly reminds him of the dungeons in some way, and he smiles upon seeing hundreds of books as well as all manner of practice gear.

"Typical Granger," he laughs, before finding an additional room that's now been added at the back. Its door blends remarkably well with the wall itself.

Stepping inside reveals a cosy room eerily reminiscent of Harry's Slytherin dormitory, except that there's just one four-poster bed here. His trunk, and Hedwig's cage, also happen to be against the wall while a workstation (much like from Potions class) sits to Harry's left. It's as if the room understands that he's wanting Polyjuice Potion, since a piece of parchment detailing its brewing lays beside the cauldron.

"21 Days here we come," he says, sighing as the lacewing flies require prolonged stewing which delays the brewing. Fortunately, the cauldron appears to be of both copper design as well as self-stirring, two nifty characteristics indeed.

Confident in his Potions abilities (since even Professor Snape, reluctantly, gives him good grades), Harry unpacks the sealed ingredients from his trunk. There certainly appears to be enough for nearly a dozen cauldrons worth in here, but he only takes what's needed for his first.

Having never brewed nor experienced Polyjuice Potion before, Harry begins dumping the required ingredients inside. The penultimate addition of lacewing flies is then added before he lets the cauldron do the stewing. Now all that's need is essence of the target, in this case: Ron Weasley. But that can only be added after three more weeks, a wait that has Harry sighing as he decides to exit his room.

A noticeable rumble soon echoes from below as Harry realizes that he's quite famished today. Unfortunately, he's well aware that food cannot be created by this room and, since it's nearly lunch, the Great Hall is far too risky.

Sighing, Harry calls upon Dobby who happily explains about the kitchen entrance. But before Harry can opt to go there now, Dobby disapparates then apparates with food in hand.

"Whoa, that was quick, thanks a million!"

"Anything for Harry Potter, sir! Do come and visit sometime in the kitchens. Dobby speaks very highly of Harry Potter with the other house elves."

As another hour passes by, Harry steps into the main practicing room where he draws his wand. The extra two-and-a-half inches compared to his former one both looks and feels quite odd. He reckons that it'd be good to deepen his pockets a bit later on. Then there's the matter of how much paler this wand seems, given the difference in wood. It also feels fairly comfortable for Harry to hook his little finger around the bone-like grip.

Taking aim at a practice dummy, Harry tries his first spell.

" _Expelliarmus_!" A few red sparks flicker out. "Come on,  _Rictusempra_!" A shower of silver bursts out rather wildly. " _Stupefy_!" Blue and red sparks fly out in different directions, battering the surrounding walls and sending more than a few books flying. " _Everte Statum_!" Streaks of orange shoot forward to knock the dummy a few feet backwards. He carries on for another hour before deciding to take a nap in his room. But once again, minutes turn to hours as what is supposed to be a nap extends past dinner.

By the time Harry climbs out of bed, he stretches out groggily before checking on his potion.

"Seems alright," he says with a big yawn while trying to shake off the grogginess, to no avail.

As dizzy as he might be, Harry nonetheless opens his room door and steps out while rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. Too sleepy is he to notice the gasps echoing across one side of the room before he aims at the dummy.

_"Reducto."_

A flash of blue shoots out from the tip of his wand before Harry (and the rest of the room whom he's failed to notice) gets a fright indeed. Seconds later sees the dummy explode with a bang before disintegrating to dust upon the ground.

"Good enough," mutters Harry, who turns left and nearly jumps back in shock.

Seated on pillows lined across the room are numerous students, each of whom appear equally horrified.

"Oh—my—God." Hermione's the very first one to approach Harry now, her hand covering her mouth as she looks him in the eye. And then her eyes begin to tear as she shakes her head. "I can't... Harry? I thought it was you earlier but... your face... how could they do this to you?"

He would respond if not for being almost ran over and grabbed into one tremendous squeeze. Hermione's sobbing face now pressed against Harry's own as he tries to break free.

"Okay, I'm okay, I know I'm ugly, Hermio—"

"How could they throw you in Azkaban, Harry? How dare they! Look at you now!"

"Herm—"

"Hundreds upon hundreds of dementors circling that horrible place and they leave  _you_ there?"

"You're choking me, gerroff, Hermio—"

"Nobody thought you'd ever be able to come back, I mean look at Hagrid after what happened to him! We were hoping and hoping Professor Dumbledore would get you back and... here you are."

By the time Hermione finally releases him, Harry gasps for breath while she holds him by the chin. Since they're basically of equal height, Harry finds his face being felt by Hermione's warm, soft hands as she still shakes her head.

"You should see Slytherin, Harry, it's not so much the same without you there. Malfoy and Nott have taken over and turned half the House against you. Everyone else just keeps shut and carries on with their day," whispers Hermione, still trying to withhold the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Man, what the  _hell_  did you go through over the holidays, Potter?"

"He has a name, Ron, so please use it," scolds Hermione in return.

"Harry." Ginny leaps up from the wall before racing over to look at him up close. Her expression mirroring that of Hermione. "Your cheeks are so gone, oh my... and your eyes are dark around them! We're all _so_ sorry you had to suffer through all that." She now hugs him quite tightly as well before more of the group steps forward.

"I'm sorry I called you all those foul things in the maze, Harry," says Angelina. "Nobody deserves to have their wand snapped and thrown into Azkaban."

"It's really good to have you back... just saying, uh, I know we're not the best of friends and stuff..." says Ron to Harry, as they shake hands.

"Right now, I don't know who my friends are anymore," replies Harry, before shaking hands with each of the wide-eyed students coming to speak with him.

"Oh please," says a Hufflepuff who Harry thinks is called Zacharias. "Look, sure, he's been to prison, got his wand snapped and looks like hell. But maybe we ought to get the sentimentalities aside and get started on why we're here? Firstly, I think everyone would like to hear exactly what happened in the Tournament, why you used  _that_  spell and—"

A taller Hufflepuff approaches him from behind before 'politely' pulling him backwards.

"I think everyone would like you to show some respect for Harry Potter, alright, Smith?"

"Yeah, sure, Diggory, I was just voicing the collective opinion."

"What? That you're an intrusive git?" whispers Fred loud enough for just those around him to hear.

"People." Harry sighs before releasing himself from Ginny's hold and addressing the room. "If anyone finds my appearance  _that_  disturbing then I'll wear a balaclava or something, alright? What are you all even doing in this room? I thought this place was a secret?"

"You really don't know?" asks Hermione. "We're here to learn proper defence, unlike the tripe which our 'esteemed' Ministry-approved Professor seems to be spewing."

Someone to Harry's left seems to have noticed his new wand.

"Where'd you get that new wand from, Harry Potter?" asks Susan Bones, whose presence brings a glaring expression from Harry.

"Why's she here?"

A collective silence is followed by Hermione explaining the parchment they'd all signed up on.

"What's the problem with Susan being here?" asks Hannah Abbot, while Cedric seems to be looking at Harry as well.

"Her aunt didn't exactly do anything to help me out, eh? Just sat there in silence while Fudge and whoever else got their way." Harry grips his wand tighter, feeling a right sense of anger towards this Hufflepuff.

"What could Aunt Amelia have done? Minister Fudge already had his mind set as well as having the backing of so many others. Your old wand did show the... the Killing Curse, remember? If not for such hard proof then maybe aunt could have tried defending you."

"She's got a point there, Harry, let's not fight amongst each other," says Cedric. "Please reserve whatever comment you're about to make, Smith."

For a good few seconds, Harry glares at Susan before begrudgingly dropping his anger. No sense in chasing away one member of whatever Hermione's put together here.

"Fine," is all he says in return.

"We all understand that you're angry," replies Susan. "That's why we all signed up. It wasn't right for them to just throw you away like that even after everything Mr. Karkaroff had said."

"Oh, how very nice to see everyone making friends here." Harry gives a drawn-out, dry laugh before looking at the crowd. "So what is this? Harry Potter's Dark Arts Group? The Death Eaters part 2?"

"Don't say that!" shouts Hermione. "None of us in this room believe any of the trash they've written about you in the newspapers, nor what anyone says on the wireless."

"On behalf of everyone here I think I'll say you didn't deserve what happened," says George. "We're all sorry, man."

"Wait, did one of  _those_  two just issue an apology?" asks Ron. "This is serious stuff right here."

"Very funny," laughs Fred. "Better watch what you eat..."

"I say we make Harry the rightful leader of our little group," says Cho, who smiles at him. "All in favour?"

"Yep, count me in." Cedric raises his hand before everyone gathered around Harry follows.

"Well, that's it then," says Hermione. "You're the best practical teacher we can get."

"How very smart to put a guy who can't handle his wand properly in charge."

"We saw you blow up that dummy like nothing just now," replies Ginny. "Don't go chickening out now."

"CHICKENING OUT?"

"Ginny!" Hermione gestures a finger on her lip. "He's not 100% right now, so let's all drop the jokes, alright?"

"How's this for a joke?" Harry takes aim at another practice dummy. " _Depulso_!"

Sparks of white scatter about, barely pushing the dummy a few inches back.

Zacharias Smith scoffs while making a sweeping hand gesture towards Harry. "Great, so our supposed teacher is useless."

At least a dozen wands end up being pointed at him, even from some of his own Housemates.

"No offense, but how would you feel after going to Azkaban and getting your wand snapped?" asks Cedric, who's immediately backed up by Cho.

"Yes, if you're so tough then how about teaching us something useful now? Come on, we're all eagerly anticipating over here."

"People, relax," says Hermione rather loudly. "I reckon we call ourselves, um,  _Harry's Division_?"

"We doing Arithmancy?" asks Harry.

" _Division_  as in military, ugh, nevermind." Hermione puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes.

"Don't name it after me, because I'm not a Dark Lord desperately looking for followers. Call it something else... Dumbledore's the one who got me back here, and he's responsible for leading my defence case."

"Harry would've still been in Azkaban if not for Professor Dumbledore getting everyone to pitch in for their opinion. So, let's spook the Ministry and go  _Dumbledore's Army_!" declares Ginny firmly, her expression quite final indeed.

"Sounds good to me," says Harry. "And you might be interested to know I've now got a wand made of yew too."

"Really? That's yew?"

"No, Ginny, this is me."

Everyone laughs at the joke as it seems that Harry's now back to his (sort of) usual self.

Nodding with a smile, Ginny claps slowly. "Oh ha-ha very funny."

"What's up with Angelina?" asks Harry, while looking at the frowning girl standing nearby.

"She's still peeved off that we lost to Slytherin last weekend," replies Fred.

"We didn't lose!" says Angelina to Harry. "Your Nott git formed his own team that took us head on but quite literally so."

"I didn't come here to chat Quidditch at this hour," says Smith, who's swiftly put in his place by Cedric.

"Let's just say things got so far out of hand towards the end that Madam Hooch called it off and scheduled a rare replay," says Angelina, before kicking at a pillow. "And then Umbridge banned most of our first team players from here on out. Apparently we were 'barbarically violent and clearly endangering the life of our respected opponents'. Nott and friends attacked first out there!"

"We'll discuss that later," says Hermione. "Let's get practicing some proper defence."

As the students organize themselves in the room, Harry can't help but notice Hermione wearing a glove.

"You're far more organized than that," he says. "What's the deal with a glove on just your right hand?"

"Forget it, I've already sorted this out."

"Sorted what out?"

"I said: forget it and let's not discuss Umbridge."

 


	4. The Room of Requirement

_Room of Requirement, Wednesday, October 9th, 1995._

Walking around with a piece of parchment in hand, Harry checks to see exactly who's in this group.

"Hannah Abbott, Lavender Brown, Katie Bell, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Cho Chang, Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey, Cedric Diggory, Marietta Edgecombe, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, my Hermione Jean Granger—"

"Really now?" Hermione can't help but shake her head and smile. Her expression vastly different from when Harry had seen her earlier today.

"—Angelina Johnson, biased commentator Lee Jordan—"

"Sorry about all the trash talk against you on the megaphone. Just part of the job being against Slytherin, y'know?"

"—Neville Longbottom, Loony Lovegood—"

"That's not funny," says Hermione, while scowling at Harry.

"Sorry, dementors ate my brain."

Harry's comment elicits quite a few laughs but none louder than Luna's. It surprises him to see the usually calm girl let out a scream of mirth as she clutches at her sides while rocking back and forth on her pillow. In fact, everyone seems to be staring wide-eyed at Luna's unbelievably prolonged laughter.

"That was  _funny_!" she replies, before wiping away the tears from her laughter.

It takes Harry more than a few seconds to quit staring incredulously at her and return to his roll call.

"Where was I? Oh... Ernie Macmillian, Padma Patil, Parvati Patil—"

"You could just say the Patil twins, or Patils, or Patil times two," says Parvati, who giggles as Harry darts his gaze up from the parchment at her.

"—Harry-James-Potter-Black-Heir-of-Slytherin-Boy-Who-Lived—"

"The bloody hell, mate?" Ron's expression draws more outbursts of laughter as he looks to the right at Harry.

"Sorry, couldn't resist that one... ahem, Zacharias Smith, Alicia Spinnet, West Ham supporter Dean Thomas—"

"You know it, yeah! Up The Hammers for life!"

"—Fred Weasley, George Weasley, lovely little Miss Weasley—"

Cheers, whistles and singing come from Fred and George who pat the red-faced girl on her back while singing.

" _His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad..."_

Zacharias Smith glares at the twins. "What is wrong with all of you people? Did we come here for jokes and fool's talk or to actually learn something?" But then he keeps silent upon catching Cedric's look.

"—Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"Thanks for reminding me," replies Ron.

"This list"—Harry lightly slaps the piece of parchment—"is sorely lacking in Slytherins."

The statement causes a fair bit of panic and furious shakes of the head by many.

"Whoa man, don't go there," says a startled Dean. "They're not the same anymore."

"We have all the Slytherins we'll ever need right in front of us," says Ginny quite proudly. "Oh for f— quit singing, Fred and George! I'm just being honest."

" _His hair is as dark as a blackboard._ "

"Alright," says Harry, while pacing up and down between the seated students. "I only just got this wand today, so please don't laugh if things don't go too well. Hermione, shall we practice the disarming charm first?"

"Certainly, and let's see if I can disarm that cocky attitude of yours, oh Lord Heir of Slytherin. Going to sic your big snake on me too, hmm?"

"You asked for it, Hermione, here it comes," mutters Ron as Harry grins.

"My snake is always ready for Miss Granger."

Gasps, laughter, and quite a commotion comes from the group gathered here tonight. Meanwhile, Hermione shakes her head and simply addresses the crowd (especially the girls).

"You sort of get used to it over time. Please do understand that he's probably addled in the brain from prison." She smirks at him before walking to one end of the room.

"So it's like that, eh? Alright, Mugglebabe, let's get it on." Harry's term of endearment elicits quite a reaction as he walks to the other end. Both now raise their wands while Hermione remains grinning impishly.

"Disarming charm? Come on this is a joke," mutters Smith before the duellists let loose.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

Harry's jet of scarlet is blasted through by Hermione's which sends him flying backwards a few steps. She then catches his wand and walks forward through much female applause.

"Consider that my revenge from Professor Lockhart's Duelling Club." Hermione stands over Harry before extending her left hand for him to take. He grabs it tightly before letting go and picking himself up.

"I don't need a wee little dentistry Mugglebabe to help me up, thanks."

"Have I touched a nerve earlier?"

They smirk at each other quite up close before Zacharias Smith suddenly raises his voice.

"Alright! That's enough! I'm sick and tired of all this foolishness and flirtation going on in a practical learning opportunity. I think we're all wasting our time when we could rather be studying in our common rooms."

"I actually agree with him," says Marietta, while Cho shakes her head in disagreement.

"Marietta..."

"I don't think this is worth it, Cho, too much trouble."

"Then leave," says Harry quite firmly to Marietta. "Anybody who thinks this is a joke can piss off right now and spare us the trouble of your presence."

"Harry, calm down, they're just frustrated," whispers Hermione.

"You'd think a person who got politically screwed out of Summer would at least want to enjoy a bit of fun now that they're back?" he retorts.

"I think we get the point," says Ron. "There's no need for any of you to be rude to Harry, come on, folks."

"This gathering doesn't seem to be very serious to me, looks more like a dull party," mutters Smith.

But Harry ignores the comments now as he grabs his wand from Hermione. "You want serious, huh? I'll show ALL OF YOU SOMETHING SERIOUS!"

"My God, he's quite unhinged," says Parvati.

"He's been in Azkaban, duh," replies Lavender. "Can't blame him for being angry, poor guy."

Harry swiftly kicks a few pillows aside while gesturing everyone to clear out the way as he takes aim at a practice dummy.

"Calm down, Potter, I was just m—"

"Shut the hell up, Smith. In fact, shut the hell up everyone who keeps moaning and groaning and complaining. If you want to leave then PISS OFF as I've said. Imagine how I must've felt seeing LORD VOLDEMORT brought back into his body right in front of my eyes, right after Parkinson got killed."

None in the room bothers to interrupt Harry as they watch him vent his frustration, and reveal what seems to have happened end of last year.

"How do you think I felt knowing the man I despise the utmost is now back, and about to tear more families apart? How do you think I felt in that graveyard where I was transported via the Triwizard Cup which was actually a trapped Portkey? You think  _Expelliarmus_  is a joke? Fine. Any volunteers for my next spell? Smith? No?  _This_  is the spell that came to mind in the graveyard, when I faced the bastard who ruined my entire life!"

Harry thinks back to the graveyard, of Voldemort mocking and taunting him.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

Screams fill the room as a small jet of green blasts the dummy backwards, enveloping it in little flickering green flames. More than a few students glance from the burning dummy to Harry and back.

"He really did it then—"

"Would you just shut up already, Smith?" asks Hermione. "If you think Harry was capable of murdering his fellow Champion then you're absolutely deluded!" She now walks right up to Harry, who clearly appears hurt from having to relive the end of June. "I'll take it from here, if I can. You just... just go back into that room of yours and maybe lay down."

"I'm sick of being mocked at by everyone," he mutters, while Hermione places her hands on his shoulders.

"You're hurt and you need to rest, now go."

Harry whispers in response before walking away. "Tell Ronald I'd like to speak with him in private later. Got Polyjuice Potion starting to stew in that room."

"What?"

"We'll talk later, good luck with your practice session, Hermione." He walks through the silent crowd before nodding towards the dummy. "Someone put that fire out. At least it's better than having to transport a dead girl back to school." After yanking open the door Harry hears Hermione speaking to Marietta and Smith.

"Are you two happy with yourselves for making him do that? Oh don't give me that 'it wasn't our fault' look. What did you expect from someone his age dumped into Azkaban? Have a lot more respect next time..."

The door is slammed shut as Harry walks over to inspect his potion before throwing himself onto his bed. Even worse is an old  _Daily Prophet_  article hanging on the wall which Harry's barely noticed before. Dated sometime last year, the article's main photo features none other than Fleur Delacour. Therefore, Harry rips apart the paper simply to keep hold of the confident, smiling image of Fleur.

"God, I miss you," he says to what is clearly just a photo. But he certainly understands why she's reluctant to return to Britain so soon. The memory of losing such a dear friend here would require some time to get over.

While laying on his bed and trying to read, Harry hears the faintest of duelling sounds coming from the main room. These are dwarfed by the softly simmering cauldron to the right as Harry lays facing the door. At least now he manages to get some revision done given that he's back within Hogwarts. Eventually, the Room of Requirement begins to empty as students take their leave around 8:45pm. With the main area silent once more, Harry looks up to see Ron and Hermione entering his room.

"Is that—"

"Polyjuice Potion, yes. Well spotted, Ron," replies Hermione, while walking from the door towards the workstation. "For someone who's never brewed it before, you've done a decent job so far, Harry. How are you feeling, by the way?"

Sitting up on his bed and placing his textbook aside, Harry shrugs. "I guess it was best for me to cool down in here. Didn't mean to throw out that Killing Curse then."

"Gave everyone a hell of a scare, that did," says Ron. "Yeah, sure, there was proof that you did it last year, but for them to actually see it up close was downright mental."

"You've both seen me use it before on giant spiders, saved either my own or your lives."

"You've got to stop getting too familiar with that horrible Curse," says Hermione. "What if you lose your temper and throw it at someone? It was pure luck that Professor Dumbledore managed to get you out after three months."

"Hmph, you might be an angel, Hermione, but I'm no saint. I'll do whatever it takes to avenge my parents and rid this world of Voldemort—"

Ron shudders at the name while Hermione looks worriedly at Harry.

"—for good."

"He's going to go even more mental if he stays in here all day long," says Ron, eliciting a wholehearted nod from Hermione.

"I agree one-hundred percent with you, Ron. That's why I reckon he's bought... how much Polyjuice ingredients have you bought, Harry?"

"Just over two-hundred Galleons worth from the Apothecary. That ought to brew nearly a dozen cauldrons full."

"WHAT?" Ron appears truly gobsmacked as he looks from the trunk to Harry to the simmering cauldron. "Just who are you looking to impersonate so much throughout the year? Nearly a dozen cauldrons for one person would be... hmm..."

"Well," says Hermione, putting her finger on her lips quite thoughtfully. "Back in second year we—that is to say you, Roger, and I— got enough out of half a cauldron for an hour dose each."

Ron frowns in concentration while looking at the copper cauldron to his left. "We threw the rest away back then, and Polyjuice doesn't always stay at an hour, right? Depending on how it's brewed it's anywhere from ten minutes to—"

"Twelve hours," says Hermione with a smile. "Good to see you have remembered it after all."

"I guess Harry over there is a decent Potions brewer. Hell, anyone who manages constant good grades from Snape ought to be decent. He even beats you on occasion, Hermione." Ron folds his arms and smiles at the frowning girl.

"Ugh, it's only because he gets favoured from being in Slytherin!"

"Oh really?" Harry sits up and moves to lean over the edge of the bed. His slightly narrow-eyed expression appears quite challenging.

"Yes, really." Hermione mirrors his expression and now bends over slightly to look him in the eye. "I can brew a better Polyjuice Potion than you, Mister Potter."

"It sure is getting hot in here, and I ain't talking about that cauldron," says Ron. "You two, uh, need some privacy? It's getting late anyway."

Harry laughs softly while challenging Hermione's glare up close. "Prove it then, Miss Granger. Next time we're all out, how about you ask the room to give you your own little space? Lock it up tight if you're scared I might sabotage your potion."

"Let's make it fair then, self-stirring copper cauldron for me too. I'll borrow some of your ingredients so you'll know it's completely equal, except for skill."

"Yeah, mine's better."

"Ha-ha." Hermione flicks Harry's bangs to the side, exposing his famous scar. "But I've got more experience from the toilet."

"You're a pro at taking a dump?"

"Ugh, what?"

"She's referring to brewing in Myrtle's bathroom," says Ron, though not without laughing at the expression on Hermione's face.

"Step out the room and I'll request my brewing spot, Mister Potter. Or are you scared to be beaten by me yet again, hmm?"

"Fine, at least you two are actually in fifth-year..." Harry's comment elicits a sudden expression of realisation on Hermione's behalf.

"Ron, do you realise that it's nearly mid-October and Harry's still  _expelled_?"

"Technically, I should've been dead in that graveyard," says a shrugging Harry.

"Blimey, you've got everything against you this year, man. I wonder if Dumbledore's gonna be able to get you back, well, officially back at school?"

"Forget our stupid brewing competition, it wouldn't be right to poke fun at Harry now," says Hermione. "This is O.W.L. year, you know,  _exams_  which dictate our future courses and essentially the rest of our lives! They have to take you back, seriously, I can't bear to think about what might happen if you don't get a chance to learn anything this year."

"Well," sighs Harry. "I guess I'll just end up some dumb rich slave of Hermione Granger's, at least there's  _fun_  in that..."

"Not funny." She looks at Ron quite sternly now. "I reckon this copper cauldron's quite good quality. That, and the fact that Harry's a great brewer means there'll be some decent Polyjuice duration per dose."

"Better than... an hour?" asks Harry, while grinning mischievously at the unamused Hermione.

"So, if three second years got one dose each out of half a cauldron, then Harry ought to get about six from this one."

Ron nods in agreement. "I reckon it'll be more than an hour per dose, maybe say... four to six hours at his talent? Yeah. You can average over a day's worth per cauldron, I think."

"You guys better get going, Prefects or not, it's really getting late," says Harry.

"Cedric's got us covered," replies Ron.

"What?"

"You honestly didn't notice the obvious Head Boy badge on Cedric's chest, Harry? He's Head Boy for this year," says Hermione, with an incredulous look on her face. "You were really in your own little world out there tonight, huh?"

"So, who's Head Girl then?"

"It's a Slytherin, and the first in a long time. Her name's Yasmin Shafiq—"

"Damn, Yasmin's Head Girl?" Harry beams with a smile. "We've gotta have her in Dumbledore's Army, then it's both school leaders on our side."

"I guess she seemed nice enough in our meeting back on the train," says Hermione. "But she'll have to sign, and we'll know if she turns on us. Anyone who betrays this group gets a nice big fat 'SNEAK' written across their forehead."

"Oh you're so naughty, Miss Granger, I like it." Harry smiles but sees her looking extremely concerned over him.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you."

"Not fifth-year, not even in school, right, understood," replies Harry, while looking down quite ashamedly.

"Why don't you tutor Harry a bit when you've got any free time?" asks Ron. "That's  _if_  you've got any free time."

"No, I'd rather not burden Hermione's already busy schedule."

"Oh, Harry, trust me I would. But do you know how busy my timetable happens to be?" Hermione looks at Harry with a woeful expression. "I really would help if I could, honest, I'd never want you to miss out on this year."

"What about that Time-Turner thing of yours?" asks Ron.

"Don't you remember that I returned it to Professor McGonagall after exonerating Sirius Black? There's no way I'd get permission to use it to help an expelled student. Even if Professor McGonagall wanted to help Harry, which I'm sure she does, the Ministry would definitely decline. We'd all end up in serious trouble for breaking that many rules."

"Okay." Harry sighs while laying on his back. "Now I really just feel like a big burden after sneaking into school."

"You're going to make her cry again, mate. She's not one to cry a lot but really, Hermione's been in tears a fair bit since your expulsion."

"Yeah well I'm pretty sure she views expulsion as worse than death. So I guess she wouldn't cry this much if I'd just plain died after the Tournament," says Harry.

"How could you lose your temper like that and now go back to seeing everything as a joke?" Hermione appears truly concerned. "What has Azkaban done to you?"

"I'm screwed in so many ways, Hermione. Screwed outta respect, outta school, my original wand's gone, Fleur's unreachable, I probably didn't even officially win the Tournament... Gotta even lay low like a real snake here in school."

"Ron, you're going to give Harry some of your hairs in three weeks' time, understand? Don't look so shocked, he's brewing Polyjuice for a good reason."

"That's absolutely mental,  _me_?"

"Yes, Ronald Weasley, you. I think Harry could use that opportunity to catch some coursework for this year as well. Plus, he knows you and your family pretty well enough to successfully impersonate. But it'd be best for you to inform him of any conversations and whatever else he needs to know about your friends."

"Sorry for being so shocked but it's not every day that someone just comes up and goes 'oi, I'd like to impersonate and take over your life for awhile'," says Ron.

"Look on the bright side," replies Harry. "You get to skive off classes and relax in the Room of Requirement while I'm being you."

"Brilliant! Now we're talking, yeah!" Ron rubs his palms together quite excitedly. "O.W.L. year's a nightmare so far, just be warned."

"And you'd better keep up with your own studies in here, Ron," says Hermione firmly. "I'm sure Harry would take notes for you in class, but you've got to make your own effort as well."

"Can't wait until that potion's done," says Ron. "Safer way to get some time off than eating Fred and George's stuff. Alright, I'm gonna be heading out so long."

Ron exits Harry's room while Hermione gives the latter another apologetic look.

"It's really unfair to see you like this."

"Hmph, quit sobbing over my misfortunes and take your pretty self back to the common room." Harry gives Hermione a wave as she walks to the door, looks at him again, then makes her way back to the common room. "Well, at least she still cares about me."

Much of the next few days are spent with Harry cooped up in his room off the practice area. It helps that Hermione's had the room conjure up a set of fifth-year textbooks, which Harry tries to get through. Defence Against the Dark Arts is deemed as worthless as Quirrell and Lockhart's classes from years back while Harry barely believes what he's reading.

On Sunday afternoon, he looks up in surprise as Hermione enters his room, for she's usually in the library especially during this crucial year.

"Aren't you supposed to be studying for your millions of classes?"

She smiles, which brings a sense of warmth to Harry as he sits on his bed.

"Certainly, but I thought you might be interested to know that I'm busy devising a means for us D.A. members to communicate."

"You've come to the right place then." Harry draws his wand. "This alleged Dark Lord shall hereby brand you with his Dark Mark. Swear your allegiance, my pretty peasant."

"Peasant?"

"Um, did I say 'peasant'? Nah, I meant 'pheasant', because that's what you are: my pretty bird."

"I think you're intoxicated from all these potion fumes, regardless of the adequate ventilation in here. Jokes aside, your Dark Mark idea is surprisingly close to mine..." She then explains her Protean-charmed fake Galleons, and their means of communicating the date of subsequent D.A. meetings.

"You never ever cease to amaze me, Hermione. Is there anything you cannot do?"

"Yes, seeing my wand snapped, enduring torture in Azkaban, and knowing I'm expelled are some of them." She gently holds Harry's wand in her left hand while bringing it up to view. "This design's rather interesting. Yew, you said, right?"

"Me I said correct."

"Very funny, but why does your wand look... evil in a sense? I've never seen such a bone-like design out of wood before, and what's with this hook thing at the end?"

"If I told you the honest truth then you'd spit in my face and throw me away. So don't bother asking."

"Why would I do that?"

"You would, believe me, no student knows why my wand looks like this."

"Come on, Harry, just tell me. I promise not to 'spit in your face and throw you away'. This is a rather drastic change from your previous wand. Must've been a surprise when it chose you in the shop, right?"

Sighing, Harry takes back his wand before holding it at eye-level and speaking. "I don't know how it is that I actually asked for this wand to be made, and then it chose me. That's just not normal, is it?"

Hermione shifts closer to Harry on the edge of the bed while again moving his bangs. "No, that's not normal at all. The wand chooses its owner, and not vice versa. I suppose you're missing your old holly and phoenix now?"

"This wand is thirteen-and-a-half inches of yew, with a phoenix feather core inside. I've been told that it's another one of Fawkes' feathers. So in a sense it's a brother to both Voldemort's and my old, destroyed wand now."

"How is this possible? It just so happens to choose you like your old one? I don't understand, especially since yew is vastly different than holly, near opposites I'd say."

"I deliberately asked for this design, you know why?" Harry rummages through his trunk to withdraw a crumpled up parchment. After unfolding it, he shows a crudely drawn picture of a wand. "Take a look at Tom Marvolo Riddle's wand I've drawn on here. Read its specifications..."

"It looks like... thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew, phoenix feather core?" She gasps, her expression conveying sheer bewilderment. "Are you telling me you deliberately copied Voldemort's wand which... which actually chose  _and_  works for you?"

Harry nods, though equally baffled while looking at his wand. "All I want is to kill him and rid the world of his presence. If it takes mocking him with an identical wand to get at his ego then so be it. Look at all the crap I've endured: mum and dad gone, boring childhood, Quirrell in first year, nearly losing you in second year—"

"At least your manners improved after that, hmph. Can't believe you let Malfoy and Nott slowly influence you back then. But I guess little lonely train compartment boys are fairly easy to influence after all." Hermione lightly punches Harry on the shoulder. "Scaredy-cat."

"You say it like it's a bad thing, Miss Granger."

"Maybe it is? You didn't have the nerve to argue against the Hat's decision, did you? You just let it place you in Slytherin."

"He said I'd be great here, said Slytherin would help me on the path to greatness..."

"I think you're great, now don't let that go to your head."

"Great enough to get expelled, yeah. Might as well erect my own cabin on the grounds and raise magical creatures."

"Stop being so pessimistic at times, seriously, have a little hope in your heart." Hermione places her palm on Harry's chest. "Goodness, you sure are beating fast."

"Stress." Harry softly laughs as she cups his cheeks and inspects his face.

"I can rub some essence from one of Madam Pomfrey's solutions under your eyes. That ought to alleviate these noticeable dark circles."

"Leave them be, because people need to see exactly what I went through in Azkaban. Three months of broken sleep, dementors constantly bringing up memories, freezing cold showers, same old clothe—"

"Shhh, just, please stop." Hermione stands up, exits the room, and soon returns with her bag. "Thought I brought this in earlier. Would you like to join me in completing my Astronomy essay?"

"Even if I was actually in fifth-year I'd be of no help to you, Miss Genius Granger."

She unpacks her bag before withdrawing her textbook, roll of parchment, ink bottle, and quill. Hermione then sits with her legs straightened, and her back against the wall.

"You do realise you're making yourself comfortable in a replica Slytherin dormitory?" asks Harry.

"Come sit next to me and maybe you'll learn something. I'm halfway through this essay. Let's see..." Hermione proofreads her work so far before smiling. "Perfect! Now let's start on one of Neptune's moons, Triton. See this diagram in the book?"

"None of the other moons have their orbits going that way," says Harry, which earns him a wide smile.

"Correct, and it's called a retrograde orbit. I believe it's the only large moon in our solar system that goes against its planet's rotation."

"The textbook says it might have been captured by Neptune's orbit over the years. Oh, do say if I'm distracting your train of thought."

"Not at all, Harry, I'll put that down here, read on..."

"It says the planet's slowly exerting a form of drag on Triton from the retrograde orbit. Perhaps in the far future this moon might be pulled close enough to be torn apart by Neptune's gravity—"

"Yep, and that could form a nice bright ring around Neptune. Now, what does the textbook say about the consequences of Triton's previous capture by Neptune?"

While sitting near the scribbling girl, Harry smiles as he summarises what he sees in the book on his lap. "There's a possibility that that could have caused another moon, Nereid, to have such an odd orbit around Neptune. Nereid's like six to seven times farther from the planet at its orbit's one end compared to the other. You getting that down?"

"Yes, sir, keep on reading."

The longer he assists Hermione with her homework, the closer Harry finds himself moving towards her. It's not long before he's looking over her shoulder at the parchment. After moving a mass of bushy hair over to Hermione's other shoulder, Harry sets the textbook down beside her. He then rests his chin on her left shoulder while listening to the sounds of her quill against parchment, and her relaxed breathing.

"By the way," she says. "How are you coping without Fleur Delacour? You two were very romantic last year."

"I don't want to talk about her now, you have no idea how much I miss her."

"That's understandable, okay, let's continue with this essay. I'm nearly finished with Uranus." Hermione gently squeezes Harry's lips shut while softly laughing. "Don't say what I know you're about to say."

"Lemme see Uranus."

"Oh for goodness sake!"

"I meant the essay, let me see what you've written so far, Miss Granger."

"Sure thing, Mister Potter."

Still resting his chin on her shoulder, Harry turns to look at Hermione. "So, when is the next meeting, ma'am?"

"This Tuesday evening, and I'll hand out the coins then." She turns to look at him up close. "What's bothering you?"

"I've got a bad feeling about Zacharias Smith and Marietta Edgecombe. Can't help shake the feeling that one of them is going to rat us out to Umbridge."

"But we can't just kick them out on a hunch."

"I know, I'm just saying we need to exercise caution. The moment our group gets betrayed then I'm going to look for a 'sneak' as you've said."

"You're so pessimistic lately, Monsieur Potter."

"You're so pretty lately, Madame Granger."

The arrival of Tuesday evening sees the Room of Requirement filling up once again for another meeting. First on the agenda is Harry issuing an apology for Wednesday's events, then Hermione explaining her Galleon communication.

"These aren't real, Ron, don't get too excited," says Ginny, while trying to stifle her laughter at her brother's expression. "You thought Hermione was giving away free gold this week?"

"What if we accidentally spend them at a shop?" asks Smith, while Harry sighs.

"Then you're an idiot in that case. Hermione's quite clearly explained about the serial number around its edge."

A fifth-year Ravenclaw, Terry Boot, soon steps forward to speak with Hermione. Almost instinctively, Harry puts himself between the two of them while questioning if Boot's about to insult her.

"Relax, Harry, I'd just like to say that the Protean charm is N.E.W.T. level magic at its finest. How is it that she's not in Ravenclaw?" asks Boot, while glancing in awe at Hermione. "With brains like that she'd have made a perfect fit here."

"It's not always that simple," explains Harry. "I'm a Slytherin who both fought off a Basilisk and pulled out the Sword of  _Gryffindor_ —"

From the commotion echoing across the room, it seems that many have either not heard of this before, or they wouldn't believe it unless it came from Harry himself.

"You brought this topic up, Harry, so here we go," whispers Hermione in his ear, as many students seem bursting with questions. "They wanted to hear it from your own mouth and not so much back in the Hog's Head."

Parvati stands up from her pillow first. "But how can a Slytherin use that sword which Terry said is in Dumbledore's office? Doesn't it belong to our founder?"

"What if I told you," says Harry, while gesturing a small amount with his fingers. "That I was  _this_  close to being in Gryffindor."

Hermione whispers in his ear again. "That's not exactly true, you let the Hat have its way."

"I know, shhh, just go along with it," whispers Harry to the giggling girl.

"I knew it!" shouts Lavender Brown, who then looks at Padma Patil. "What did I tell you all those years ago?"

"Oh no, here it comes..." mutters Padma. "Thought you forgot about that."

"Forgot about what?" asks Harry, to which Anthony Goldstein responds:

"I think I vaguely recall those two having a bet from after our Sorting that you should've been in Gryffindor."

"Cough up the money, thanks," says a triumphant Lavender. "I believe it's about 5 Galleons and 9 Sickles now."

"That's outrageous!" replies Padma. "I didn't know our bet was still running after all these years."

Meanwhile, the Weasley twins turn to look at each other.

"Hey, speaking of bets, George..."

"Don't try your luck, Fred, we've got nothing running at the moment."

Deciding to quell the situation (and look good in the process), Harry digs into his pocket to retrieve a small sack. Six Galleons are taken out which he hands over to Lavender.

"Here, now don't mix Hermione's Galleon with this lot."

"Such a gentleman, thanks," replies Lavender, while Padma also breathes a sigh of relief.

More questions soon come flying towards Harry, with some involving his first year.

"I remember," says Neville suddenly. "When Hermione and Ron said Harry was looking for them one night. I tried to stop them but Hermione petrified me and went off to help Harry save the Philosopher's Stone."

"Yeah, we saved it from Voldemort, who was on the back of Quirrell's head before that Professor, uh, mysteriously passed away," says Harry. "Yeah, he got himself  _fired_ , hehehe..."

"Hey!" yells Fred excitedly. "Didn't we throw that stammering idiot with snowballs back then? I'm sure we got the back of his turban, George."

"Congratulations," says a clapping Harry. "You two managed to hit Lord Voldemort with snowballs in his face. Better watch your backs if he still remembers. Far as I can tell, he tends to hold long grudges... myself being one of them."

Another hand is raised into the air as Colin Creevey catches his breath before speaking. "Is it true you fought a werewolf on the school's grounds?"

"Who told you that?" asks Harry, while trying to mask his deeply concerned expression.

"I might've accidentally let slip," mutters Ron, eliciting a fearsome glare from Hermione beside him.

"No," says Harry very firmly. "Ronald was attacked by a vicious stray dog on the grounds, yes. Perhaps, in his panicked state, he thought it was a werewolf which we learnt about earlier in the year. Ahem,  _turn to page three-hundred-and-ninety-four_..."

"Oh no!" says Parvati playfully. "Mini-Snape is in the house."

"Very funny," replies Harry. "So yeah, Ron mistook a dog for a werewolf."

"That makes sense!" Colin's (and the rest of the room's) expression of belief in Harry's lie has the latter feeling a great sense of relief.

"How'd a dog just randomly get onto the school's grounds?" asks Katie Bell.

"The Forbidden Forest is full of all sorts of nasty. Giant spiders being some of them," replies Harry, hoping to keep any and all suspicion away from Remus Lupin.

"Angelina told me she was taken down by an acromantula in the maze, before you, well..." Cedric decides to avoid continuing with a rather sensitive topic for Harry. "Nice work on that dragon in the first task!"

"Yeah," agrees Cho. "That was the highlight of the year indeed, Harry."

"Wasn't the highlight when he lost against Viktor Krum?" asks Smith, before Angelina cracks her knuckles.

"Shut up, man, don't bring that up," she mutters under her breath.

"I very much recall that infamous article of Miss Skeeter's about Krum, Potter, and Granger," says Marietta. "Foolishness."

"Thank you for your opinion, Edgecombe," says a smiling Harry, who then turns around to whisper and face Hermione. "What a bitch!"

"Let's get this meeting started," declares Hermione loudly. "Harry will talk us through some spells and hopefully demonstrate effectively with his new wand.

"Righto." Harry draws his wand, eliciting a few nervous looks as many are unsure if he's controlled it yet. "I'm thinking we practice offence for tonight.  _Everte Statum_ , a nice painful little knockback on the opponent.  _Flipendo_ , takes more concentration but it's ultimately more potent than  _Everte_. Then there's  _Stupefy_  which requires even more power, concentration, etc, than the previous two. It's basically the bread and butter of a serious situation."

"When are we going to do a Patronus?" asks Ginny. "I'd love to see what mine might be."

"All in good time, little Miss Weasley."

"Thank you, Professor Potter, sir." She bows playfully at the grinning Harry.

The mass of students split up into pairs while ensuring there are plenty of pillows scattered about.

"Hermione," says Harry. "Don't forget to show them  _Rennervate_  once you've knocked me out."

"Stop letting me win on purpose, Harry, I'd like you to fight back for real."

"I'd prefer to master my wand properly first, wouldn't wanna hurt my precious Granger. I'm talking about the wand in my hand, by the way."

"You did  _not_  just throw that kind of euphemism at me, Harry James Potter!" Hermione glares before clearly demonstrating  _Everte Statum_ , then  _Flipendo_ , followed by  _Stupefy_  on Harry before reviving him.

After awaking from the attack, Harry grins as she stands over him. "I like this view."

Elsewhere, a few students sigh, including Parvati who folds her arms before speaking to Hermione. "I think you sorely need to get a room with Harry Potter. Seriously, there's  _so_  much going on between you two. It's quite sizzling, if I may say so myself."

"Oh, um, let's move on shall we?" Hermione helps Harry to his feet before letting him inspect the various pairs. Everything appears to be in order as there's now twenty minutes still left.

"I reckon we end off tonight with  _Impedimenta_ , useful for slowing one's opponents down," says Harry, who then goes on to view the various pairs practicing the spell. To his satisfaction, everyone puts in the required effort and seem to be getting the desired results. "Neville, pair up with Luna. Boot, switch to going against Colin Creevey."

At half-past eight, Harry dismisses the group to avoid leaving at the same time as last week. Then, once the room's all but empty, he turns to smile at Ron and Hermione.

"I think I'm starting to like these practical sessions."

"They're far better than our official class, trust me, you'll find out once you walk in as me," says Ron. "Boring as hell."

"Can I trust you with my Potions assignment, Harry?" asks Hermione. "Feel free to read through it so you have a basic understanding of our current curriculum."

"You're such a star."

With everyone having now left for their common rooms, Harry kicks back on the bed and reads through Hermione's lengthy assignment. He can't help but smile at the thought of her being so caring and considerate over him. If anything, he'd like nothing more than to repay the favour someday.


	5. Juiced-Up

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry continues to remain within the Room of Requirement while only sneaking out for some fresh air on occasion. With Marauder's Map in hand, he carefully avoids any crowds of students while walking around the castle he can hardly call home anymore. But one thing which has completely surprised him is Pansy Parkinson.

After passing her (while under the Invisibility Cloak) one Friday afternoon, Harry stops to catch more than a glimpse of his Pansy. No longer does she have any hint of a bob-hairdo, instead, she's seemingly lengthened and loosened her hair. Then it strikes Harry that Alyssa used to wear her hair like this as well. Unwilling to reveal himself, he swiftly returns to the Room of Requirement as the 30th of October grows nearer by the day.

Once it finally arrives, Harry waits until the end of the fourth D.A. meeting to speak with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, Fred, George, Ginny and Ron Weasley now stand quizzically in the main practice area. Meanwhile, Hermione gives them all a knowing smile as she's already been told by Harry of his plans. With nobody else in the Room of Requirement, Harry asks them all to sit down as it's now half-past eight.

"There's something I need to tell all of you, which Ron and Hermione already know about," says Harry.

"Okay but do hurry up so we can all head back to the common room," says Angelina. "We've just barely managed to beg our way back onto the team. I don't think that devil Umbridge will give us another chance... even though it clearly WASN'T OUR FAULT!"

"Whoa, relax," replies Harry. "That's what I wanted to discuss with you ladies and gentlemen. I'm deeply disgusted by what's been happening at Slytherin,  _my_  House. Not Malfoy's, not Nott's, not anyone else's. I'm the best there is, was, and ever will be in Slytherin."

"Whew," whistles Ginny while fanning herself with her hand. "Such confidence is certainly making it hot in here now."

"I'll admit that it was better during your time, even with that cheap trick you and Flint used to sneak in handfuls of goals," says Alicia. "Oh and sorry about last year."

"Forget it, what's done is done." Harry gestures towards Ron standing beside him. "I'm going to put it very bluntly, and I hope none of you will snitch on me."

"I suggest you all listen," says Ron. "Even Fred and George too, this is important stuff here."

"I've got a big batch of Polyjuice Potion having just finished brew over the past three weeks. Care to guess who I'd like to impersonate for awhile?"

"Oh my word, are you serious? Polyjuice Potion, for real?" asks Ginny, whose expression of surprise is mirrored by the much of the team. "As in the potion that makes someone look like another person? I thought that stuff was illegal and extremely difficult to brew at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," says Angelina. "How in the world did you get that right?"

"Imagine the possibilities of Polyjuice for pranks," says Fred to his twin.

"So, you looking to get back into your common room without needing to sneak around?" asks Alicia Spinnet. "Do we need to maybe knock one of your Slytherins out for you?"

Harry laughs before nudging Ron in the side. "Nah, I'll be taking over from Ronald on occasion."

"WHAT?" Every other Weasley present, as well as the rest of the team, appears utterly shocked.

"Are you... are you serious?" asks Katie Bell. "Why are you wanting to be him? No offense, Ron."

"Hermione, would you care to be a darling and explain?"

She laughs slightly before explaining Harry's desire to get back at his mocking Housemates.

"Plus." Harry turns to Ron. "Far as I've heard you've actually gotten the Keeper's position over McLaggen against Slytherin earlier, correct?"

"By luck but I'd rather not talk about it," mutters Ron, his face now a shade of red. "Match didn't go too well..."

"Slytherin's new Chaser crew: Nott, Vaisey and the old return of Montague basically hammered Ron at the posts," says Angelina pitifully. "While on the other end, Zabini put up a good effort against our attacks."

"I thought you said you took them head-on?" asks Harry.

"They played dirty," replies Fred. "George and I had to constantly keep track of those lumps of rubbish with bats."

"Crabbe and Goyle?" asks Harry.

"Definitely, yeah. It helps that they got stupidly violent enough to earn us more than a few penalties, but enough was enough..." says George.

"I told you two not to lose your temper up there." Angelina now looks at Harry. "The moment Slytherin started getting penalties they began hammering past Ron. Not to mention their stupid song which I dunno where it came from."

Ginny shakes her head at Harry while speaking. "Look, it was funny in your and Flint's time, but now they're just getting plain old rude. I remember when your crowd used to mock the Ravenclaws needing to stay in the library or whatnot... but 'Weasley is our King' is a disgusting song."

"Let me hear it, and I promise that I won't laugh."

After clearing their throats, the twins sing the chants but without their usual sense of enjoyment.

" _Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That's why Slytherins all sing:_

_Weasley is our King._

_Weasley was born in a bin_ ,

_He always lets the Quaffle in_ ,

_Weasley will make sure we win_."

"Born in a bin," sighs Hermione, while looking at Harry. "That's got to be someone like Malfoy or Nott. Not even Parkinson would stoop that low."

"My Pansy is better than that," says Harry firmly. "It's Malfoy, Nott, and the rest of those who were against me last year. Quite possibly more as well. But let's see how they like it when it's actually me playing as Ronald."

"Whoa, wait, what? Are you bloody serious?" asks Angelina. "That is absolutely mental!"

"Cool!" says Fred, whose statement is echoed by George. "Is there any position you  _cannot_ play in Quidditch?"

"My dad was a natural Chaser, and I'm a natural Seeker. It's not very hard for me to adapt to other positions. Or did you all forget how I knocked down McLaggen with a Bludger last year?"

"Git deserved it, thanks," mutters Ron.

"There's only one 'King' in Slytherin and that's me, like it or not." Harry tries to ignore the giggling from Hermione at his side. "If you want to beat Slytherin then let me take them down for you. It'll take a true Slytherin to bring his people under control and teach them humility via defeat."

"Preach it, Harry, you say it!" cheers Ginny. "No offence, Ron, we do think you're a potentially great Keeper for us..."

"'Potentially' is the problem though," says Fred. "We need it now before we leave school. Seriously, I think we'd all love to see the Cup sitting in Gryffindor's cabinet for a change."

"Wait a minute." Alicia looks strangely at Harry. "Are you truly willing to put an end to your own House's Quidditch Cup winning streak?"

"Technically, I'm still expelled so no guilt on my part really," replies Harry, while casually shrugging.

"Don't try to understand Harry Potter," says an amused Hermione. "I can write an essay on this boy."

"Titled:  _The Boy-Who-I-Loved_." Harry laughs as Hermione pulls his hair. "Ow, sorry."

"He's nuts," says Ginny. "That's why we should stick him in goal as Ron and see what happens."

"For all our sakes, please make sure you do not turn back into Harry during our training or match. Are you sure that Polyjuice of yours will work?" asks Angelina.

"Don't doubt my skills," replies Harry, while Hermione raises her eyebrows and smiles. "I'm pretty sure I can get a good average of three to five hours out of each dose. Ronald, you should bring my Invisibility Cloak and watch from the tunnel. If anything goes wrong we'll do a quick switch and I'll get out of sight."

"Good idea," says Ron.

"Man, this is really crazy," says Katie. "So, we're going to be holding tomorrow evening's practice with Harry Potter as Ron?"

"I think it'll be great stuff," says George. "Might be weird as heck too."

"It's going to be so super strange to see my brother as you, Harry, really," says Ginny. "Please don't pass any of your comments as him."

"Let's do a tester, Ronald, hair please."

"Oi, watch where you cut!" Ron winces as Hermione snips off a slight bit of his back end. She then passes it to Harry who jogs into his room to slip it into a glass of Polyjuice Potion. The potion now turns a slight tinge of yellowish gold before Harry downs it in three large gulps.

"Not... too bad, I guess..."

His insides begin to writhe and his stomach now burns as the transformation takes hold. While leaning over the workstation and looking into the mirror ahead, Harry sees himself slowly changing appearance. It's also truly an odd feeling to be shooting up essentially six inches to Ron's height. Jet black hair turns a striking shade of red before Harry soon removes his glasses to clear his new vision. Green eyes turn blue while he also spots a slight bit of freckles sprinkled across his face.

Now his Muggle clothing feels noticeably small and tight, but fortunately he's wearing a tracksuit top and trousers. Jeans would have been far worse, in Harry's opinion. Once the transformation is completed, he now sees Ron smiling back at him in the mirror.

"What the hell?" he mutters, with his voice now replaced by Ron's. There is simply no way of seeing him as anyone but Ron Weasley. Not wasting any time, Harry sprints out his room into a most startled group of Gryffindors.

"Bloody hell!" yells Ron.

"Bloody hell!" replies Harry, eliciting nothing but amusement from Hermione.

"ARE YOU FRICKING JOKING RIGHT NOW?" shouts Angelina. "Is this what Polyjuice Potion can do? This is bloody nuts!"

"Oh my gosh." Ginny laughs at the open-mouthed Fred and George. "You guys aren't the only twins here now."

Harry, however, looks at Ron before grinning. "Bloody hell, blimey, mate, mate, oi, brilliant, wicked."

"Not funny, mate."

"Yes, mate."

Everyone starts laughing loudly as Harry takes to following Ron and mirroring everything he's doing.

"You know, Hermione..." Harry looks down into his trousers before dropping his voice. "Ron might be quite taller than me but it's remarkably close competition... down here."

"NO! OH, MY GOD YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!" she shrieks with laughter in a manner rivalling even Pansy now. Harry's words cause Hermione to roll over while clutching at her sides on the pillows. "No, no, no, no! I did NOT just hear that... ahahahahaha!"

"What did Harry say to you?" asks Ron, while the twins appear to have caught on.

"I think he just compared your, uh,  _stuff_  there, Ron," says Fred, to which Ginny and the rest of the girls roar with laughter.

"Oh don't look so embarrassed, Ronald," says Harry. "Okay, okay, jokes aside now." He waits a good few seconds before sighing. "Ladies, can we all stop laughing?"

"Yes, Ron, um, Harry," replies Hermione, who's reddened cheeks are dripping with tears of laughter. "I haven't laughed that hard in a long time."

"Everything looks different from up here though. Who knew six inches could make such a difference?" asks Harry, before narrowing his eyes at Ginny. "Don't make that joke which I can clearly see coming. Or should I get all big brother on you now? Bow down before your older brother, Ginevra!"

"Stuff you, I'd never do that to Ron."

"Um, Harry..." Hermione approaches him. "Your clothes are a dead giveaway now."

"I'd have to swap with Ronald quickly, but everything in my trunk's too small for him."

"No worries," says Katie Bell. "Bring some out here and we'll Transfigure them to size."

"Fred, George." Harry looks sternly at the amused pair. "I know this is all funny and stuff but can I trust you two won't nick some of my potion?"

"Promise, cross our fingers and hearts," replies Fred. "Polyjuice pranks do sound hilarious though."

"Seriously." Hermione's expression shows little amusement at them. "Don't you dare go and risk Harry's cover this year. If anyone gets a hint of Polyjuice..."

"Damn, there's no telling what that Umbridge maniac will do. I say we stick to the usual stuff," says George. "Got plenty of treats planned for better things anyway."

"Like what?" Hermione looks hopefully at Harry. "Since you're Ron, you're technically a Prefect now, Harry. Set an example for the real Ron on how to enforce discipline and live up to expectations."

"Nope."

Cheers and whistles come from the rest of the Weasleys as Hermione glares at Harry.

"Well, that's the first step in successfully being Ron," says a still-awestruck Angelina. "I can't wait until our rematch against Slytherin."

"I've thought of something," says Alicia. "Wouldn't it be helpful for us to know exactly who 'Ron' is when we're out there? Give us a sign or whatever you can think of."

Ron laughs a slight bit. "I think it'll be pretty obvious when it's him. He's probably gonna be owning it on the Quidditch pitch and talking to girls."

"Oh come on," sighs Harry. "You can do that too if you try. Heck, it might be me but it's still your own body. If I can be a kick arse Keeper then what's stopping you?"

"That's remarkably nice of you to say to Ron," whispers a smiling Hermione nearby. "Thank you, Harry."

"This is going to be an interesting year if Harry's got more than one cauldron of Polyjuice available," says Angelina. "So, what's the sign that you're being Ron?"

"For the next few weeks I reckon I could wear some tape around my fingers. Might come off though..."

"You're also going to need Ron's wand when you're him, just to be 100% authentic," says Hermione. "What's it again?"

"Fourteen inches, willow, got a unicorn tail hair inside," replies Ron. "Nothing fancy like Mister Phoenix Feather in yew. Hey, can I borrow your wand while you're me? It looks so bloody awesome."

"My wand isn't a toy, Ronald, don't fool around with it. You could see how erratic it works even for its owner who's still getting used to it." Harry goes to fetch some spare clothing from his trunk which are lengthened by Angelina and Katie. He then swaps wands with Ron while the Quidditch team greets and hurriedly returns to their common room.

"I think it's a great choice to be Ron, Harry," says Hermione. "Being a Prefect means you've got a convenient excuse to slip out after curfew to return here. Then, Ron can go back to the common room in your place so you don't have to risk sleeping under Polyjuice there."

"See? I am actually clever," replies Harry, who soon retrieves the Marauder's Map from his room before opening it in view of Ron and Hermione.

"I still can't believe you've got a view over nearly the whole school!" says Ron. "Bloody mental this is."

"Who are you looking for?" asks Hermione, who soon laughs upon seeing Harry tracking a familiar dot. "I knew it, just don't blow your cover, alright?"

"Now I'm going to have some fun, mate," says Harry, while grinning devilishly at the Map. "Time for a bit of patrol, Hermione, stay close in case I start reverting."

"I'll warn you at the first sign of black hair, or whatever else starts showing."

"Oi, turn around already!" says Harry, who begins undressing with Ron following suit. A red-faced Hermione scoffs before turning her back on both Ron Weasleys as they swap clothes. This leaves the real one in plain Muggle clothing, and Harry in Gryffindor uniform with his Prefect badge.

The latter follows Hermione out of the room before concealing his Map as they head to the fifth floor corridor. It's only a matter of time before Harry spots a familiar face, whom he now approaches near the clock tower's interior.

"Blimey, someone's looking nicer with her long hair," says Harry, before the girl spins around while glaring.

"What do you want, Weasley? Just because you're a Prefect doesn't mean we're on level terms. Go patrol somewhere else because this is my area for tonight! Granger, take your pal away."

"Oh come on," says a sniggering Harry. "I'm just trying to be nice here."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you, loser? For God's sake, Granger, take him out of my sight!"

"Hello, Parkinson," greets Hermione casually. "Oh don't be so mean to Ron. He's just feeling a little... different tonight."

"Oh yeah?" Pansy remains glaring at Harry. "Is he high or something? Prefect status getting to his brain? Before you know it you'll get Percy Weasley syndrome. Also known as big-headed-I'm-too-uptight-for-my-peasant-family disease."

Harry starts to grin but is quickly pinched from behind by Hermione. Realising his incorrect response, he battles to get angry at Pansy.

"Ahem, that's not funny, Parkinson!" retorts Harry. "Still crying over Harry Potter?"

"Wait, what?" Hermione looks rather surprised at Harry's statement towards the now livid Pansy.

"What did you say to me, Weasel?"

"I asked"—Harry grips Ron's (which is seen as 'his' now) wand tightly, in case of being attacked—"if you're still crying over Harry Potter? Too bad he got expelled, I mean it's not like any of you Slytherins really cared about him, right? You're all probably laughing away in the common room that your overrated Half-Blood 'leader' is gone. Bet you're all super happy now that Malfoy and Nott have taken charge. Isn't that what you people always wanted? Aren't you happy to see two 'esteemed' Purebloods getting the spotlight now?"

Through clenched teeth, Pansy speaks while drawing her wand. A familiar sight of ebony wood which Harry's quite used to seeing over the years.

"Say one more thing, just one more, fellow  _Prefect_ , and you'll see..."

"Alright." Harry stifles his grin. "I reckon you're happy to have Potter kicked out, so now you can get down and dirty with Theodore Nott. Doesn't he have an obvious infatuation with you? I'm sure you two will get along quite we—"

" _Petrificus Totalus_!"

"H—Ron! What the heck did you do this for?" asks Hermione, who steps aside as Harry casts a fairly decent shield charm against the full body-bind curse.

"You call that a shield charm?" taunts Pansy, who fires off a disarming charm at Harry.

"Harry Potter wasn't the only one who could do it right here, huh? Blimey, you're one mental witch!" Harry flees behind a suit of armour. "Hermione, a little help over here."

"You started this!"

"That's right, stand aside, Granger." Pansy walks forward to get beside Harry. "Think I'm as stupid as you, Weasley? Want me to hit the armour to make a noise so you can run away and get me into trouble?"

"Pansy Nott." Harry laughs while running out from cover as a couple spells narrowly miss him. "Pansy Malfoy... Pansy Nott-Malfoy? Double team attack! Ace in the hole. Or maybe... Pansy Nott-Malfoy-Zabini-Crabbe-Goyle? Whew, that's hard work right there."

"You Weasel bitch,  _Rictusempra_!"

" _Protego_! Maybe you need Potter to teach you how to duel properly, Parkinson. A Prefect ought to be able to catch their targets,  _Flipendo_!"

Pansy side-steps the knockback jinx before Harry swiftly follows up with:

" _Tarantallegra_!" His spell is blocked by Pansy's shield charm before the latter's counterattack unintentionally knocks over a suit of armour. The ensuing loud racket would surely attract attention now.

"I'm getting outta here. Go to bloody hell, you stupid Weasel!" Pansy stuffs her wand into her pocket before hurrying down the corridor. This leaves Harry and Hermione to flee in the opposite direction back towards the grand staircase.

"I can't believe that you just did all that," says Hermione, while hurrying to patrol the fourth floor corridor with Harry as expected.

"What better way to gauge if she's still the same than to mess with Pansy like that? Good to know she does miss me quite a lot, and that Nott doesn't stand a chance of getting her." Harry quickly decides to inspect the Map before gasping. "Oh, crap."

"What's wrong?" Hermione takes one look and sees someone in the distant end of the corridor approaching. "Put the Map away before he sees."

"Forget that, let's get out of sight before Snape sees and maybe uses Legilimency on me. He'd see right through the Ronald Weasley cover."

Harry grabs Hermione's hand as they swiftly evade Snape by heading down an alternate route through the corridor. After checking the Map to see Snape having passed them, they now return to the seventh floor corridor via the grand staircase. Right upon entering the Room of Requirement, Harry and Hermione spot Ron looking quite surprised.

"Everything okay in here?" asks Hermione.

"This wand is nuts, guys! Check that out." Ron points towards the practice dummy which lays smashed against the wall. "Very aggressive stuff."

"You're not its rightful owner so obviously it'll be volatile. Don't hurt yourself in here while we're out," replies Harry.

"Yeah, I get that, but look at the damage it can do."

"It's really getting late," says Hermione. "Swap clothes and let's get back to the common room."

The next day begins and carries on pretty uneventfully for Harry as he spends most of his time in the Room of Requirement. After exiting and re-entering the room, he has it conjure up a Cleansweep Eleven broom inside, much like Ron's. The difference being that since the item was created by the room, and not stored from outside, it wouldn't last very long if removed.

Harry takes the opportunity to transform into Ron yet again as he climbs onto the broom with a Quaffle (also conjured by the room) in hand. He then flies around the practice area while throwing the Quaffle against its walls to catch it on the rebound.

"Dobby has brought Harry Potter food again, sir."

Looking down from above, Harry gratefully accepts his lunch which he swiftly finishes. Then, just as he hands over the empty plate, he smiles.

"Dobby, would you mind temporarily bewitching this Quaffle to try and act like someone throwing it at me? Uh, just don't make it chase me like that Bludger once did."

Nodding eagerly, Dobby enchants the Quaffle to act like a boomerang once Harry hurls it forward.

"Thanks!"

Much of the next few hours are spent throwing and catching the Quaffle which mimics a Chaser's shot being saved. It takes Harry a fair bit of time to get accustomed to being Ronald Weasley, but eventually the ease of playing Quidditch comes through. Unsure if it's Ron's physical traits or Harry's natural talent, the latter carries on practicing Keeper until after dinner.

"Oh nice, let me toss that," says Hermione, who enters the room and picks up the bewitched Quaffle.

"Huh? Wait, hold on!" Harry sighs as she throws it forward only to yelp as it spins around to hit her in the abdomen.

"The hell?" Ron gawks open-mouthed at an equally shocked Hermione, before Harry explains about Dobby's assistance.

"Are you okay?" He tosses the broom aside before helping her to her feet. "Shouldn't have left it there, sorry."

"Please, I'm tougher than a Quaffle hit," declares Hermione. "Speaking of Quaffle, I think you ought to take a nice dose of potion before heading to the pitch. Last night's dollop lasted how long?"

"Roughly five hours," says Harry. "So it wore off during my sleep."

After swapping wands with Ron, Harry takes a large dose of Polyjuice Potion before exiting the Room of Requirement. Hermione walks beside him while Ron follows beneath the Invisibility Cloak as the trio make their way out of the castle.

"Weather's at least not too bad tonight," says Harry.

"Could've been a lot worse to practice in," replies Hermione, as they soon enter the stadium to find the Slytherin Quidditch team arguing with the Gryffindors. Hermione whispers for Ron to now head off to the Gryffindor tunnel.

"We booked this pitch first," says Angelina firmly.

Theodore Nott, who has taken over as Captain, scoffs at those in scarlet robes.

"I suggest you take your pathetic Cleansweep Sevens off the pitch and make way for our Nimbus 2001's."

Standing with him are Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, Michael Vaisey, and Graham Montague.

"Oh look, boys," says Malfoy, while turning to see Harry approaching with Hermione. "Here's the blood traitor and his Mudblood friend.  _Weasley is our King!_ Sing it with me, people."

" _Weasley is our King, he always lets the Quaffle in! That's why all Slytherins sing: Weasley is our King!"_

The Gryffindor Chasers forcibly keep their anger in check while also holding back Fred and George. Now, Ginny looks eagerly at Harry's hands. The latter raises his right one to scratch his hair which also lets the Gryffindors see his finger tape. This serves as a sign that it's actually Harry instead of Ron as he now walks right up to face Malfoy. The lack of height difference does feel quite odd compared to being his usual self.

"So, Weasel, going to drop the Quaffle again for us in the next match? Did you learn that from your overweight mother who dropped more than a few of you lot at birth?"

"You scumbag swin—" Fred is held back by George, who whispers that things are under control. The rest of the Gryffindors now look to see Harry's reaction.

"You know that expression your mum makes? You know, the one that looks like there's dung under her nose? Is she always like that or is it just when you're around her?"

Harry's comment has his teammates bursting into laughter while the Slytherins hurl derogatory remarks at him.

"Blimey! I'm sorry, but one at a time please, mates."

"We're not your  _mates_ , filthy impoverished swine!" sneers Nott. "How does it feel to be poor? Why don't you sell your slut of a sister to raise some Knuts? The entrance hall generates a lot of traffic, and potential income..."

Even Harry can't stomach this sort of remark, and he ends up drawing Ron's wand.

"Don't..." whispers Hermione, as Harry takes aim. "You're a better duellist than Ron. Don't give them reason to get suspicious so soon."

"What's that Mudblood whispering over there, Weasley?" asks Vaisey. "Come on, attack us if you dare."

Lowering his wand, Harry breathes deeply before calming himself down. "You know what I heard from Harry Potter? He told me that Nott's father was grovelling at You-Know-Who's toenails in the graveyard! Hahahaha! What a bloody tosser!"

"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY FATHER LIKE THAT!"

"Leave the blood traitor, Theodore," says Zabini. "Potter's gone for good, it's about time that Half-Blood loser left the school."

"Half-Blood loser?" asks Harry, who spots the Gryffindors looking at him. "Oh yeah,  _congratulations_  on having a fully Pureblood Quidditch team now, Nott."

"Who cares about his talents? Potter shouldn't have been on this team in the first place, same goes for other Half-Bloods," says Nott, who receives many nods of approval from his teammates.

"You do realise there are more Half-Bloods in Slytherin than you'd think."

"And what would you know about Slytherin, Weasel-King?" asks Malfoy. "Been talking to Potter now that he's rightfully expelled?"

"Hey, Nott," says a grinning Harry. "Think you stand a chance at Pansy Parkinson?"

"What?" Nott steps forward ahead of his peers. "You really have been chatting to Scarhead, eh? Well, you can go tell him that the Dark Lord's surely going to find him and kill him, I hope."

Harry laughs dryly at the supposed threat. "Oh, sure, You-Know-Who did a brilliant job after the Triwizard Tournament, didn't he? Harry's so dead and buried I must say."

"So, Potter's on first-name basis with a blood traitor?" asks Montague. "As if being friends with that Mudblood behind you wasn't bad enough already."

"Man, you people are like a broken record player. Mudblood, mudblood, blood traitor, blood traitor, pureblood, pureblood... blah blah blah." Harry apologizes again to Hermione for using the word, before he continues. "If you're so desperate to keep things Pureblood then how about ramming your rods up each other's arses right here? That'll do us all a favour and avoid a new generation of dumb degenerates."

"You tell them, Ron!" cheers Ginny, while the rest of team Gryffindor laughs loudly at their angered opponents.

"My father makes more money in one hour than your family probably has in their savings, Weasley," retorts Malfoy, with a smug expression of supposed triumph. "How does that make you feel? You like being so damn poor?"

"Nice Cleansweep Eleven," says Zabini mockingly. "Was that your gift for becoming Prefect? Shame, who knows what your father had to do in his useless job to afford that. Oh, I almost forgot that it did nothing in our earlier match. How many goals did you score past Weasel, Vaisey?"

"Lost count, really."

"You stupid arseholes only think you're tough because of your superior brooms." Harry briefly darts his eyes towards the Gryffindors who clearly see the irony in his hypocritical statement. "Maybe I should give Potter a call soon."

"And what the hell can Azkaban-murderer-soon-to-be dead-Pothead do against us here?" asks Nott. "Bet he's crying at home, with his filthy Muggle family, over his broken wand. Hey, maybe now he's turned into a Muggle where he belongs? Tell him to go die."

"Noted," replies Harry, while still smiling in a manner which annoys the Slytherins.

"Take that stupid smirk off your face, Weasel, it's making you look even more poor and ugly," says Malfoy. "And tell Scarhead he can't do anything here anymore. Slytherin is our House now, as it always should've been before that  _thinks he's perfect_ Half-Blood took over. Let him do his worst."

"Let's see how tough you and your stupid team are, Nott." Harry calmly gestures a middle finger. "When I call Potter and ask him to buy team Gryffindor all Nimbus 2000's, just like his first broom."

Harry's statement brings an excited gasp to his Gryffindor teammates as they fervently whisper amongst each other.

"Our brooms are still better!" boasts Montague. "Close the gap all you want but it's not doing a thing. If he thinks he's so rich why not go with 2001's? Is he too poor like you, Weasley?"

"I'm sure Harry Potter would love to prove that daddy Malfoy's brooms can get taken down by an inferior model." Harry now looks at Malfoy. "How often does You-Know-Who bend your daddy over and whip his bare arse with that walking stick? Or does Riddle go for the middle?"

"What the hell does that mean? Shut up!" Malfoy draws his wand before Harry swiftly brings his up. "Nobody talks rubbish about my father!"

"Harry's given me some duelling tips so I'd suggest backing off," warns Harry. "As for you, Nott, you will never ever steal Parkinson's heart. She has and will always have a crush on Harry Potter, ahahaha! So much for your supposed _Pureblood advantage_."

"Let's see how you like this!" Nott fires an Instant Scalping Hex.

" _Protego_!"

Harry's shield charm easily deflects the attack.

"You Weasel poverty bitch!' yells Nott, as his head goes bald from the hex.

"Hey, now you almost look like your daddy, Nott," says Harry. Meanwhile, every Gryffindor on the pitch points and laughs as Nott's rushed away by his fellow teammates.

"You'll pay for this, you hear? YOU HEAR?" shouts Zabini from the stadium's exit.

"I'm here!" Harry then walks over to grab Ginny into an unexpected hug.

"Are you alright? Can't believe he called you a  _slut_..."

"Like I care what they have to say, puh-lease," says Ginny. "Um, do you realise how odd this looks?"

"Totally odd," says Fred.

"Yeah, definitely odd," adds George.

"What?" Harry swiftly releases the giggling Ginny. "Oh yeah, almost forgot that I'm still your brother... awkward."

"Harry..."

"Oi, address me properly, Angelina!"

"Oh, sorry." She sighs before laughing. "Ron, did you really mean what you said about those brooms?"

"This Slytherin situation has gotten out of hand and they need to be put down. So consider it a yes, I'll ask my godfather to organise the stuff. So I guess I'll use a school owl to send the letter. But..." Harry now looks worriedly at the Weasleys. "How am I going to explain this to Mrs. Weasley? She must've spent quite a bit on getting Ron...me... oh whatever... this Cleansweep Eleven."

"There's so little difference between that and a Nimbus 2000 that you're better off just keeping the Cleansweep," says Alicia, who receives a nod of agreement by Katie.

"Yeah, I guess I'll do just that. But mark my words: if Nott's team plays dirty and tries their rubbish like they did to you guys last time... You don't wanna know what I'm capable of," says Harry.

"What are you 'capable of', Mister?" asks Ginny quite eagerly. "Do tell us."

"Oh no, don't worry about it."

"I'll bet he has some kick arse plan up his sleeve," says Fred to a nodding George.

"Alright!" Angelina's expression turns serious. "We've wasted enough time here already. Let us practice."

Indeed, they do practice for well over an hour where Harry certainly impresses in his new position. But any comparison to the real Ron is met with Harry noting the former is well capable of doing the same. Then, as they return to the castle under darkened skies, Harry and Hermione walk behind the group.

"You've piqued my interest," she whispers to the still-Polyjuiced Harry. "What exactly would you do if the game ends up extraordinarily foul and dangerous? Last time, we lost so many team members from deliberate injuries."

"If Malfoy and Nott think they're hotshots who can do whatever they want then they've got another thing coming."

"Like?" Hermione tilts her head while clearly curious.

"Don't worry about it."

"I hope you're not planning anything utterly barbaric? Please tell me you're not going to go absolutely mental."

"No, my pretty Mugglebabe, there's nothing for you to worry yourself about."

 


	6. The Rise of Ron Weasley

With the rematch of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin due on the second Saturday of November (just under two weeks' time), Harry continues to prepare alongside Angelina's team. He's already had Hermione slip out a letter via Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, to Sirius in order to organise the Nimbus 2000's. Since Ginny already has one, and Harry's set to use a Cleansweep Eleven, only five new brooms are needed.

"It's no big deal," says a polyjuiced-Harry to Angelina in the third floor corridor on a Monday afternoon. "The Nimbus 2000's are going for around 120 Galleons each so that's only 600 for five of 'em."

"Only 600?" she laughs. "Rich kid."

"Oi, I'm not rich." Harry reminds her to keep his impersonation going. "I'm quite poor!"

That sentence is said loud enough for the oncoming Slytherins to hear. Since Defence Against the Dark Arts has basically no practical component, it seems Umbridge has merged her lessons. Gryffindor and Slytherin share this class while Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw do the same.

"Well," says Angelina, who's about to head off to her own class. "Good luck with yet  _another_  class shared with Slytherin. What's it now for you fifth-years? Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Defence?"

Harry whispers in response. "Let's see what's so bad about this Umbridge, besides the fact that she snapped my wand."

With most of the Gryffindors and Slytherins already gathering outside the door to Classroom 3C, Harry waves at the approaching Hermione.

"Where have you been, Ron? I've been loo—"

She pauses, with rather widened eyes and a look of surprise, as Harry shows her the finger tape.

"O-Oh, this is quite surprise, um, you could've told me earlier..."

"I wanted to see the look on your face, cutie-Muggleborn-pie."

"Hey!" Hermione gestures for him to be quiet. "Ron doesn't talk that way."

"Don't act like you don't like it."

"Be quiet and enter the classroom already." She essentially pushes Harry into the classroom. "And stop being such a flirt, seriously!"

"I thought of you all night long in Azkaban," whispers Harry in her ear. "Sure missed seeing you in pyjamas."

"I think you really need to polish your broomstick as soon as possible." Hermione leads Harry to the back of the rightmost row of desks where they sit together. "And don't ask me to do it."

"Since when do you sit all the way at the back like this? Potions being the exception, that is." Harry looks quizzically at a stern faced Hermione.

"Since this foul evil gargoyle took over here. I refuse to sit in front of a class following such a useless curriculum, hmph!"

"You're so sexy when you're rebellious."

"Don't blame me if you blow your cover."

"Blimey, no need to be so rude, Hermione."

"That's much better, yes."

Seated in front of Harry and Hermione are Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown. When asked, Hermione explains to Harry that Umbridge had split up some of the noisier pairs. These include Parvati and Lavender, Dean and Seamus, as well as Eloise and Fay.

"So, she favours Slytherin?" asks Harry, while Umbridge walks down the aisle to the front of the class.

"Seems like it, yes." Hermione then sees Harry staring to his far left. "Quit looking at Parkinson! I know you find her even more appealing this year, but you're now Ron."

"I think you're both very appealing," replies Harry. "Wouldn't mind a two-on-one someday. I like it both ways you see, Pureblood and Muggleborn. Different flavours, maybe?"

"For goodness sake!" whispers a red-faced Hermione. "Please calm yourself down and try not to get Umbridge upset. Her detentions are... different, and I wouldn't want Ron to find himself in one of them."

"Good morning, class," greets Umbridge, who Harry sees as being nothing but saccharine.

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," they respond as expected.

"Man, this toad is so false," whispers Harry to Hermione.

"Is there something you'd like to tell the rest of the class, Mr. Weasley? Do speak up."

With all heads turned and eyes now on him, Harry stands and speaks. "No, I was just wondering what Harry Potter might be doing nowadays, ma'am."

Umbridge remains smiling, but Harry sees the malevolence behind it. No doubt she's feeling mighty proud of herself for having snapped his wand and sent him to prison. Meanwhile, he also spots the Slytherins' interests piqued by the question. Some, like the boys, appear to frown at Harry's name while the girls remain stoic.

"Mr. Potter is undoubtedly faced with the reality of his actions and would be left exiled from the wizarding world. Murder and such egregious conspiracy theories are frowned upon by the Ministry of Magic," replies Umbridge.

"Conspiracy theories?"

"I will not repeat the false accusations of a now ex-student of this institution. Mr. Weasley, if you do not have any input regarding our curriculum then I would like to you to please sit down. Follow your classmates in reading through the fifth chapter of  _Defensive Magical Theory_."

Many in the class (including Umbridge) now direct their attention away from Harry, except for Pansy. The latter appears to be staring at the wall (past Harry) in a rather daydreaming manner, as if she's pondering the question with great interest. Then, once they make brief eye contact, Harry winks at the confused girl before taking his seat.

"My God this is absolutely boring to read," he mutters under his breath.

"I hate this textbook," replies Hermione, which has Harry smiling.

"Never ever thought I'd hear that coming from my friendly neighbourhood bookworm."

She smiles somewhat guiltily while Harry grins at her. They then return to staring at their textbooks as Umbridge surveys the class from beside her desk.

"Now then," says Umbridge, who speaks in the last twenty minutes of the double lesson. "Let's see... Mr. Weasley, what is an effective method of stopping an attack?"

" _Protego_ , ma'am. It's a very useful spell that Harry Potter really knows how to do quite well." Harry smiles smugly while Hermione gives a giggle that she hides behind her hand.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. Firstly, you are incorrect as negotiation is far more preferable to offensive reactions. Secondly, you are also incorrect as Mr. Potter is no longer capable of performing magic at all. A very disappointing response, Mr. Weasley."

"'Mr. Potter' is more capable of performing magic than you might think, ma'am. Also,  _Protego_  is mainly defensive, it is a 'shield' charm after all," replies Harry, while Umbridge remains smiling as usual.

"Another five points from Gryffindor for that response, and be grateful that I have not reached detention-giving yet. Ten more and I certainly will."

A soft whine of protest comes from Hermione as she urges Harry to sit down before he gets Ron into trouble.

"No offense, Professor," says Harry as 'politely' as possible. "But Harry Potter has told me he's a better Defence teacher than you are. I'm just quoting what he's said."

Harry's statement elicits a variety of shocked reactions across the class, from both Gryffindor and Slytherin alike. Umbridge, however, appears to persistently maintain her overly sweet demeanour.

"Well, Mr. Weasley, since you're in contact with Mr. Potter you can tell him that I'd be more concerned over my Muggle life, if I were him."

The Slytherin boys cackle with mocking laughter while the Gryffindors hardly appear impressed by the statement. Pansy and the girls simply smile politely as expected by Umbridge, but Harry can tell they're not finding it at all amusing. For to have one's wand snapped is a thought which brings a shudder to many in the wizarding world. Before any further points can be deducted, Harry decides to settle down once more beside a visibly upset Hermione. She now squeezes his hand beneath the desk while whispering once Umbridge turns to face the Slytherins.

"Don't let her get to you, trust me. I spoke out far too much during our first lesson and, well, never mind."

"She really thinks even more highly of herself and the Ministry now that I'm gone, huh? She'll be in for quite a shock later in the year," replies Harry softly to a nodding Hermione. "But all in good time I suppose, priority is getting through our meetings and practical learning."

They manage to endure the last few minutes of Umbridge's class before leaving in sighs of relief. Checking his watch, Harry notes that nearly two hours have passed since he's taken his dose of Polyjuice Potion.

"Alright, I'm going to head back to the room now," he says, while walking down the serpentine corridor beside Hermione.

"Good idea, although I think you could get another few hours out of it, Ron."

It's a good thing she's keeping his ruse going, as Harry and Hermione are now approached by Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle near the corridor's end.

"Get a few more hours of what, Mudblood?"

"Why are you eavesdropping on our conversation, Malfoy?" asks Harry, while reaching into his pocket.

"Because." Malfoy struts forward quite smugly. "My father told me it's only a matter of time before we get a real Head of school. The old fool will soon be replaced by Professor Umbridge and then, when that happens, we Slytherins will finally be on top. So you'd better enjoy being on 'level' terms with me before Umbridge promotes us to greater things."

"So she's going to promote me too?" asks Harry. "Because you said 'us'."

"Don't try and be smart with me, Weasel, it doesn't suit you at all." Malfoy scowls before continuing. "By 'us' I meant we fifth-year Slytherin boys, as well as Parkinson, Bulstrode, the Head Girl, and Montague. Consider you and your Mudblood friend forewarned about what's to come. Father says we might even be able to dock points and give detentions to any and all students!"

"That's all?" asks Harry. "What about Warrington or Bletchley?"

"No way we're putting those pro-Potter traitors on our future squad."

"I thought the Head Girl liked Harry as well?" asks Harry, to which Malfoy scoffs.

"She's only getting on our future squad because she's Head Girl. We'll be keeping an eye on her in case she's not cut out to maintain order and discipline across this school."

"What about Parkinson? She definitely liked Harry."

"Oh please." Malfoy waves dismissively. "She's gotten over that already. Too bad Nott and Zabini can't seem to date her, such a shame. If Potter thinks Parkinson's still all over him then he's got another thing coming. That's assuming he's stupid enough to try and sneak into school with his fancy Cloak. Now I've wasted enough time talking to a Mudblood and blood traitor. I'll have you losers in detention soon enough, 'Prefects'."

"And that's one of his weaknesses," says Harry, as Malfoy exits the corridor while flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. "Can't help but gloat when it's better to shut the hell up. Let's get to the room and discuss things."

A few minutes' of walking later sees Harry and Hermione rejoining Ron in the Room of Requirement. The latter now appears quite laid-back on a fancy recliner in the corner of the room.

"For Heaven's sake, please tell me you've done at least  _some_  studying?" asks Hermione.

"Yeah, a bit, I guess. Tried to read through a chapter on Herbology. Boring stuff but at least it's done," replies Ron.

"Fair enough, but I hope you're not lying to me." Hermione then gestures for Harry to sit on the ground beside her as they discuss Malfoy's threats.

"More power than a Prefect? But only the Head students have that!" says Ron. "You think he's bluffing?"

"No." the still-Polyjuiced Harry shakes his head. "I know Malfoy well enough to believe some of his boasting. Don't forget that I spent years sharing the same dorm as him."

"I've never shared a dorm with Draco Malfoy," insists Ron, whose joke elicits a couple of laughs.

"Haha, give it a rest already, Ron," says Hermione. "You know what Harry means."

"Even I don't look for so many reasons to gloat around—"

"Yes, that's because you  _earn_  your bragging rights, Mister Potter."

"Why thank you, Miss Granger." Harry smiles before realising something which lights up his expression even more. "There's no way in hell that Pansy or the girls would ever turn on me. If anything, they're not openly defending me because they're trying to get ahead. Whatever this squad thing happens to be, well, I'll be sure to let Pansy know I'm back, once she's on. Let's see how  _they-think-they-own-Slytherin_  Malfoy and Nott will fare with my spies in place."

"Spies? What?" Ron laughs while still reclining in his seat. "Slytherin's very weird I must admit."

Hermione's expression turns rather woeful as she speaks. "Just because they're Pureblood doesn't give them the right to assert their 'dominance'. If you ask me, Harry, you're a far better leader for your House than them."

"Let Nott, Malfoy and whoever else run their fool's paradise for now. They'll get a wake-up call starting on the Quidditch pitch." He then looks at Hermione and suddenly gasps.

"Is something wrong? Have I said something to offend?"

"No it's just... I'm just so goddamn sick of hearing them call you  _that_ word!"

"Mudblood?" asks Hermione.

"Don't say that word!" Harry clenches his fists tighter than he'd have expected, since this is Ron's form after all. "Enough is enough. I think it's time to finally shut all those discriminative arseholes up, especially that  _proud Pureblood team_."

"You say it, mate. Tell it like it is! At least your crowd never chanted such slurs before a match."

"What?" asks Harry, while looking from Ron to Hermione and back.

"You can't blame the entire House for its rotten quarter," she says. "They were chanting 'Poorblood' to Ron whilst on their way to the stadium. The bad bits of your House, Harry."

"That's not funny, honestly it's not. Or rather I should say it's Nott who must've encouraged such rubbish." Harry stands up and kicks his pillow across the room. "Hermione Jean Granger—"

"Oh boy, he's using my full name..."

"—I want you to continue our lessons we left back in third year. You're going to play Seeker, and you're going to beat Draco Malfoy to the Snitch."

"WHAT?" Ron practically falls over his recliner while half-gawking, half-laughing. "Are you bloody mental? Hermione can hardly fly at all beyond simply chasing some magical keys, uh, no offense. Malfoy, though a git he may be, is still far better on a broom than her. And where will Hermione even have the time to practice?"

"Ron's definitely correct on that last point," says Hermione. "I barely have time to help you keep up to scratch, Harry. Don't take this the wrong way, I do value your reasoning behind that idea..."

"My heart is already hurt from being unable to be with Fleur, not to mention the horrors I endured in Azkaban. I got my original wand snapped, lost out on the holidays, probably got disqualified right at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. I'm also expelled, and seen as a no-good murderer by some—"

"Okay!" Hermione stops herself from an onset of tears as Harry looks down in defeat. "You don't have to keep reminding us of all that  _horrible_  stuff over the holidays. I'll try and do it."

"Really?"

"That's what I said, Harry."

Ron, meanwhile, shakes his head in amazement. "Harry, you're a brilliant flyer, but if you could somehow pull this off... somehow train up Hermione to actually play Quidditch properly..."

"Not  _somehow_ ," insists Harry. "It's gonna happen, and Hermione's going to show 'em all why she's Queen of the Muggleborns."

Laughing slightly, Hermione raises her brows at the remark. "There's no need to get so dramatic about it but... thank you."

"What about your studies, mate?"

"Uh, I don't really say 'mate' to girls, Harry. That's more of a guy-guy buddy thing," says Ron before Hermione speaks.

"I'll make time for you, Mister Slytherin. It really hurts to see how ungrateful some of your Housemates can be for all you've achieved. How dare Malfoy and the others just stab you in the back like this?"

"They were always a bit disappointed after I resumed being nice to you, following the Chamber of Secrets thing. But I guess the Triwizard Tournament just ended whatever 'friendships' I had with any of them. Jealousy makes people utterly nasty," replies Harry. "Why don't you two go and grab some dinner, and I'll set things up so long?"

"Set what up?" asks Ron.

"I'll slip out under my Invisibility Cloak, then pass the room three times while asking for a practice area."

This is exactly what Harry does once Ron and Hermione have left for dinner. By the time they return, the practice room has been swapped for a large indoor Quidditch pitch.

"Cool! I didn't know the room could go this far with creating places," says Ron, who stands at the door overlooking the expanse of pitch. To the far left and right are golden scoring hoops while the green grass below feels quite odd. A non-Polyjuiced Harry, meanwhile, stands in the centre of the pitch looking quite proud of himself.

"Don't you just love magic?" He now looks at the impressed Hermione. "I think the room knows that you might fall off your broom from practice. So the grass is quite safe to land even from a fifty foot or higher fall."

"Like a trampoline," says Hermione, as she tests the ground with a quick hop. "You make it sound like I'm going to slip off at the slightest manoeuvre."

"Better safe than sorry for my Hermione." Harry gestures for them to grab a broom laying metres ahead. "Don't get too excited though, these don't last very long if taken out of the room."

"Makes sense," sighs Ron. "Otherwise, what's the use of buying stuff if we can just imagine it up here and go home with 'em?"

"Here's a Cleansweep Eleven for you, Ronald, you do have this broom out there anyway. I'll be flying a Nimbus 2001, just like the rest of team Slytherin does. Hermione, here's a Nimbus 2000."

"But I want a 2001 or even a Firebolt." She folds her arms while looking rather defiant. "I demand a better broom."

"Who's acting like a stubborn little child now, huh? Tell you what: if you impress me enough throughout our lessons then I'll ask Sirius to buy you a Firebolt too."

"That's crazy! I was only joking, Harry."

"That's nuts!" Ron appears flabbergasted at Harry's offer to Hermione. "And here I am with just a Cleansweep..."

"The latest model," adds Harry. "Which is nearly on par with a Nimbus 2000."

"But she's gonna get a  _Firebolt_!"

"If I can even handle it, Ron," says Hermione. "Besides, you two are the ones with talent while I will have to rely more on the broom advantage, hmph."

"Anything is possible if you put your bright mind to it. Even a less-than-two-weeks crash course, not literally, can be possible," replies Harry. "You are Hermione Granger after all."

"Oh my goodness." Hermione gives a soft giggle while shaking her head. "Forever making things so dramatic. Alright, alright, let's get started."

"Ronald, we're going to let Hermione chase after us. This'll also be some good flying practice for me, since I'm a bit rusty from prison."

"Take to the skies... roof... oh whatever, my two Snitches," says Hermione, who ushers them ahead as she mounts her Nimbus.

"Hey, Ronald, how long do you reckon it'll be before Hermione falls off her broom?"

"One minute tops."

"Is that what you think?" She kicks off the ground, groaning as the two boys laugh at her from ahead. "I'll have you know it was I who beat all of you, including Charlie, to the Snitch years ago!"

Although he remembers that as being due to a cheap replica Snitch, Harry lets Hermione have her moment of confidence.

"She's coming for us. She's gonna grab my arse!" Harry laughs while speeding up through the centre of the enormous room.

"Don't make me do it, Harry Potter!"

Hermione leans lower to speed up her broom as she chases both boys through a straight path in mid-air. It's easier to keep up with Ron compared to Harry, and that's due to more than just the latter's superior broom.

"Almost... argh!" She narrowly misses grabbing hold of Ron's robes as he rolls aside to have her pass by.

"Too slow, sorry. Try again next time."

"If I don't catch you at least once today then you can forget about History of Magic help."

"Blimey, what?"

"Hey!" Harry spins around on his broom before wagging his finger at Hermione. "None of that stuff up here, alright? You'd only be cheating yourself like that, Miss Granger."

She smiles guiltily before looking up at Harry. "I'm going to catch you."

"Oh no you won't."

"Try not to catch the floor," says Ron.

"You two are so immature, ugh!" She now targets Ron as he flies off in a slight dive while Harry performs a rolling manoeuvre around her. "Would you stop doing that? Quit circling around me all the time."

"The Snitch plays tricks sometimes, gotta get used to it. Here, Miss Bookworm, a worm on a broom... woodworm?"

"I am  _not_ a worm."

"You're one of those sour gummy worm sweets, hahaha!" Harry ruffles Hermione's hair while hovering above her. Then he banks to the side as she tries to grab his robes. "You missed me."

"I'm going to catch either of you."

"Fat chance," laughs Ron, as the trio continue to speed around the Quidditch area. Surprisingly, Hermione doesn't fall off her broom at all during the next hour of practice. From what Harry sees, she's not as bad as one would think. But he knows it will still take many more lessons to get her prepared for a proper game.

Soon, they dismount before Harry throws on his Cloak and exits beside the two Gryffindors. He does this in order to have the room transform back to the D.A.'s usual practice area for tomorrow evening.

As Tuesday, the 29th of October, arrives, Harry meets up with Hermione in the Room of Requirement.

"We've got double Charms followed by double Transfiguration, with the usual half-hour break between those two," she says. "One-and-a-half hours of being out there is risky but you absolutely  _need_  to get some Transfiguration in. You're quite gifted in Charms, Harry, so that's not too much of an issue here."

"Wouldn't you say it's better if I go to Charms and let Ronald practice with us anyway? That way we'll both learn quite well."

"Not today, because Ron really needs to catch-up in class." Hermione smiles before digging through her school bag to withdraw a piece of parchment. "I forgot to give this to you earlier."

"What's this? A timetable of sorts?" Harry looks down at the rather hastily scribbled list.

"I've asked the fifth-year D.A. members of different Houses to put it together. So now you can be certain of where everyone in our year might be. Some of them have even spied on your House too."

"You're amazing, Miss Granger."

"Why, thank you, Mister Potter. Even though you could have just followed everyone around on the Map anyway."

"Ha-ha, get to class already." Harry gently ushers Hermione out of the room while Ron follows beside her. With nobody around to keep him company, Harry decides to view today's schedule on the makeshift timetable.

_ Tuesday: _

_G: 1: Charms, 2: Transfiguration, 3: Elective, 4: Herbology._

_S: 1: Free, 2: Elective, 3: Elective, 4: Charms._

_R: 1: Astronomy, 2: History of Magic, 3: Potions, 4: Transfiguration._

_H: 1: Free, 2: Charms, 3: Potions, 4: Herbology._

He would sneak off to Charms under the Invisibility Cloak but then considers the risk of getting hit by a stray spell. Although Flitwick tends to be a kind and likable Professor, Harry's unwilling to risk being seen unnecessarily. He therefore decides upon grabbing a fifth-year textbook from a shelf in the Room of Requirement. Transfiguration is difficult enough already, but to read through without McGonagall's advice from class only worsens the situation.

The main theory centres around Vanishing Spells, which is said to be among the most difficult magic tested in the O.W.L. exams. From what Harry reads, the difficulty of the spell increases tremendously depending on the object needing to be vanished. This would explain why much of the year's curriculum centres around the same topic. Professor McGonagall would surely start simple, then assign both theoretical and practical work as the weeks pass by.

Once the bell sounds for the mid-morning break, Harry soon looks up from his studying to see Ron and Hermione enter. The latter immediately appears sympathetic as she sees Harry trying his utmost to get in some fifth-year work.

"Getting expelled really makes you appreciate school," says Harry, whose face shows much concentration. "At this rate I'll be hitting the books more than my friendly bookworm."

Hermione laughs ever so slightly at the remark. "Perhaps they can re-sort you into Ravenclaw? Ha-ha I'm just joking. But it is good to see you studying though. Ahem..." she then turns to look accusingly at Ron.

"What?"

"After you swap, I want you to be studying in here, got it? It's O.W.L. year for crying out loud!"

Harry and Ron now swap out with the former using another dose of Polyjuice while changing into Ron's robes. After checking to see if his Prefect badge is in place, Harry swaps wands with Ron before exiting to the seventh floor corridor beside Hermione.

"Don't be so hard on him," says Harry.

"If you don't keep up with your studies, Ronald Weasley, then you're going to struggle in the exams," says Hermione, loud enough for the students at the seventh floor entrance to hear (and snigger). She then whispers once they're out of earshot. "I just don't want him to fail even more, because his confidence is already battered from Quidditch. By the way, how many doses are still left of your first cauldron?"

"About three to four, I think. Already started brewing the second and third batch. Or didn't you see those two extra cauldrons?"

"Very smart. I was actually going to suggest precisely that, since it takes three whole weeks on average."

As they're now nearing the seventh floor landing, en route to the grand staircase, Harry sees some of his Housemates arrive. It appears that many fifth-year Slytherins remain taking Divination, with nobody bothering to do Muggle Studies nor Study of Ancient Runes. But some have left Divination for Arithmancy, such as Theodore Nott, Sally-Anne Perks, and Tracey Davis.

"Hey, Zabini," says Harry (while Hermione groans). "Where's your best mate? Left you behind with Trelawney?"

Coming up the corridor towards the Gryffindor pair are Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent.

"Shut up, Weasley, I ought to—"

"Uh-uh-uh." Harry points to his Prefect badge pinned upon his chest. "Watch your tone around a Prefect."

Malfoy steps forward, followed by Pansy as both Slytherin Prefects make themselves seen by Harry.

"Think you're tough, poorblood?" asks Zabini. "That's right, you're no more pureblood than actually a poor one, blood traitor, hahaha!"

"Good one, Zabini!" cheers Malfoy, while Pansy smiles. "He thinks he's another Percy Weasley looking to try make a name for themselves."

"Oh that's very clever of you," says Harry. "You like your Prefect badge?"

"Parkinson, let's shut this Weasel up."

"Draco Malfoy, you're only a Prefect because Harry Potter's no longer around," says Harry, whose words seem to hit Pansy quite a bit. "Just think how nice it would have been to have two proper Slytherin Prefects: Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson, yeah?"

"Since when do you compliment  _her_?" asks Zabini, while gesturing towards the crestfallen Pansy. "What happened to  _pug-face_  and all that stuff?"

"Nah you see... Harry's given me quite a scolding for that, since he's back at home now. Oh, and two points from Slytherin for your discriminative slur earlier."

"Say something!" Malfoy turns to look at Pansy, who now puts on her usual stern expression. "Don't tell me the Weasel is getting the upper hand on you with his mind games?" He then turns to look at Harry. "If he even has a mind, nice going in Potions the other day, idiot."

"You will forever only be the second-best boy in Slytherin, Malfoy."

"Would you  _stop_  talking about Scarhead already?" snaps Malfoy, before Harry laughs.

"Did I say a name? No. You just acknowledged Harry as being the best Slytherin boy around."

"That's it, I don't care if you're a Prefect too—"

"Draco." Pansy taps the livid blond on his shoulder. "Let's just get to class already."

"Don't you order me around, Parkinson. My father's in better standing with the Dark L—" Malfoy abruptly stops speaking as Harry grins triumphantly. "Never mind, nothing."

"What was that? Almost slipped there, eh?"

Zabini hurries the boys past Harry while Crabbe and Goyle shove Harry into a startled Hermione on their way through. Meanwhile, the three Slytherin girls simply carry on wordlessly, though not without stopping to see Harry helping Hermione to her feet.

"You alright? Didn't expect those lumps of human waste to shove me into you."

Once on her feet, Hermione nods before patting off the dust on her robes. "I'm fine, Ron, no worries here."

Harry now turns to look at the three Slytherins nearby. "You girls are going to be late standing around."

"We're not your girls, Weasley," replies Millicent coldly. "You'd better watch your tongue with us. Pick fights with the guys if you'd like, we don't care."

"Enjoy Divination." Harry smiles before finally exiting the seventh floor beside Hermione.

"You really need to stop being nice to them, for the sake of impersonating Ron."

"But I just can't be mean to my girls."

"Exactly, they're _your_  friends and not Ron's."

After a lengthy descent down many a staircase, both Gryffindors soon reach ground floor level. They now make their way towards Classroom 1B near the middle courtyard where Professor McGonagall awaits.

"Good morning, Prefects, have I not asked you to set an example by being early?" asks McGonagall, while standing up from her desk. "At least you are still on time."

"Sorry, ma'am, we had a bit of a verbal row with Malfoy and co.," replies Harry. "They're getting awfully rude now that Professor Umbridge is around the school."

Many a Gryffindor nods and voices their agreement with Harry's statement before McGonagall slightly smiles.

"Do keep that to yourself, Mr. Weasley. Now then, please sit down and, everybody, ready your wands for today's class."

Having already practiced the Vanishing Spell with Sirius and Lupin after last year's Quidditch final, Harry feels somewhat prepared. He's also read up as much as possible for today's lesson on vanishing animals, including kittens. Soon, the Gryffindors are briefed once again by McGonagall as she explains the complexity of vanishing complex living organisms.

" _Evanesco_." Harry now aims Ron's wand at the kitten sitting on the desk before him. He then sighs as it ends up only losing its tail. "Crap, gotta get this to work."

"It's not your wand, remember," whispers Hermione in his ear. "You're doing alright, since Ron's basically on this level too."

Try as he might, Harry simply cannot get the kitten to vanish appropriately, even as McGonagall repeatedly repairs his partial Transfiguration. Each time he vanishes part of it, McGonagall un-Transfigures any missing bits to reappear while she smiles at him.

"Try again, Mr. Weasley."

" _Evanesco_!"

He keeps on going until the lesson ends, with over an hour's practice leading to half the kitten being vanished. Fortunately, McGonagall repairs the damage yet again before the class is dismissed.

"Mr. Weasley, if I may have a word with you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, I do not see another Mr. Weasley around here."

"Hermione..." whispers Harry to the alarmed girl. "Professor, we need to do our homework in lunch."

"That can wait." McGonagall allows Hermione to stay behind as well, while the rest of the class shoots Harry pitiful looks on their way out. "Close the door please, and keep your voices low just in case."

"Just in case of what, ma'am?" asks Harry, while Hermione seems quite thoughtful beside him. McGonagall now lowers her voice while walking up to place her hands on Harry's shoulders. "I know my vanishing is poor, ma'am, but I guess I just need to practice a bit more in our common room and—"

"How are you feeling, dear boy?"

"Excuse me, what?" Harry tries his best to avoid being nervous. "I really need to go..."

"I think she knows," says Hermione softly. "Has Professor Dumbledore told you, ma'am?"

McGonagall nods quite gravely. "Of course he's told me all about this, Professor Snape knows too."

"But why him?" asks Harry. "How's he going to react when it's me out there against Slytherin?"

"You're playing a very dangerous game out here, Mr. Potter. That's not to say brewing all this Polyjuice isn't impressive though. Never mind the dozens of rules you are currently violating."

"Who else knows about me?" asks Harry swiftly, while trying to imagine Snape ratting him out to the older students.

"Nobody but Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and myself. I have had a rather lengthy discussion with Professor Snape regarding the possibility of you playing Quidditch. I'm sure you'd understand his initial outrage?"

"What does it matter, ma'am? I'm  _expelled_! It's a blessing that Professor Dumbledore's even allowing me to do all this, so that I can at least get a basic idea of what O.W.L. year is about."

"Trust me when I say that I do feel sorry for you, Potter. This whole situation is enormously unfair upon you in so many ways." McGonagall turns to smile at the saddened Hermione. "You always seem to be at his side, Miss Granger."

"I refuse to just sit back and watch Harry fail a year. What if Professor Dumbledore does succeed with all these cases for Harry's return? There's still a chance that he might officially be enrolled again to do his fifth year."

"Professor," says Harry, while looking quite firmly at McGonagall. "You can tell Professor Snape that, although I know he hates me even more for this, someone needs to sort the rotten bit of Slytherin out. They're starting to get worse with the insults and it's only a matter of time before they put up discriminative House banners. I certainly wouldn't like to hear 'Mudblood' and 'blood traitor' chants going around. Imagine the poor youngsters!"

"Poor Severus," says McGonagall quite excitedly. "He's been arguing against your inclusion in the rematch, Potter, but I reckon your reasoning might sway his defiance."

"I wouldn't play against my own House if they weren't so rudely confident in their '  _Perfect Pureblood_ ' team. It used to be only a quarter of the House as bad apples, but the rot is now spreading fast."

"You are very brave to be doing all this," says Hermione. "It takes a lot to risk being out here for classes _and_ trying to shoot down the growing discrimination in Slytherin."

"Perhaps we should re-sort you when you're enrolled again? I reckon Gryffindor House would be better suited for you," says McGonagall. "After all, who's the one that once pranced around on a desk wearing a Gryffindor tie?"

"Those were happier days, ma'am," says Harry softly. "But I'm a Slytherin through and through."

"Well, do tell Mr. Weasley that he's not getting any special treatment for accommodating you like this. He'd better keep up with his studies and attend my class on occasion."

"Don't worry, ma'am," says Hermione. "Harry's trying to let some of us know when it's him in here." She lifts his hand before explaining the finger tape as a sign. "Thank you for being this understanding."

"Potter," says McGonagall as Harry turns to leave. "It's good to have you back again. I do wish you the best of luck with your endeavours, truly."

"I'll take good care of him, Professor," says Hermione. "Work-wise, I mean."

"Please see that you do, for Professor Dumbledore's been greatly concerned over Potter's disrupted education."

The pair of students soon exit the classroom before making their way to an empty one. Here, Harry summons Dobby to make sure Ron's well fed in the Room of Requirement before Harry and Hermione head off to the Great Hall.

"What made you suspect that McGonagall knew?" he asks, as they now near the entrance hall.

"She's been watching you all throughout class, even more than she usually eyes Ron. That, and the obvious lack of being told-off for your lacklustre vanishing efforts. I do wonder how she knew it was you here today, though?"

"Perhaps she just took a guess?" asks Harry. "Wouldn't hurt to have been speaking to the real Ron who's in on this thing anyway."

Sitting at the Gryffindor table feels truly strange as Harry takes Ron's usual spot. It's even weirder as he has to adapt to communicating with these friends as if he's genuinely Ronald Weasley. Fortunately, Hermione tries to keep his ruse going, even once Ginny (who's seated nearby) gasps upon realising who it is.

"What's up, Ginny?" asks one of the other Gryffindors sitting nearby.

"Oh, nothing, just a thought." She looks at Harry who smiles in return before carrying on with his lunch. Everything seems to go rather uneventfully until a sixth year, Cormac McLaggen, walks to stand behind Dean Thomas (who's sitting opposite Harry).

"Hey, Weasley, didn't I warn you that playing Keeper's no joke? You're lucky the game descended into chaos and Hooch called it off." McLaggen stands up straight, arrogant as always. "Rematches almost never happen, so this is a sign that team Gryffindor needs its real Keeper back." More heads now turn their way to see McLaggen intimidating Ron Weasley. " Rather focus on your work, and stop trying to usurp the position which I'm clearly the best at since Oliver Wood himself."

Sighing, Harry abruptly stands up from his seat, much to the surprise of those around him.

"Ron," mutters Dean. "McLaggen's a tough Keeper, man, maybe you should just let him come back?"

"You've had your fun while I was out sick," says McLaggen to Harry. "Now let me take over and lead us to glory against Slytherin next coming Saturday. Gryffindor hasn't won them since... a long time."

"Tonight," says Harry. "Right after classes, at sunset, I'll take you down on the Quidditch pitch, McLaggen."

"WHAT?" Many a Gryffindor gawks at the sudden confidence shown by 'Ron Weasley' now, including a confused McLaggen.

"Did _you_ just challenge me?" McLaggen looks amused as he turns left then right to draw attention to himself. "Dude, you barely saved like a quarter of those twenty shots Slytherin sent your way last game."

"Oh, I dunno..." Harry grins at Hermione and Ginny before holding his arms out wide. Now more faces seem to be looking his way, especially from the Slytherin table. "I reckon things will be different this time."

"And why are you suddenly so confident? O.W.L. year driving you mental?" asks McLaggen.

"I'm just... feeling good about myself today, yeah," replies Harry, while bouncing on his heels. "I'll see you later on."

While McLaggen scoffs and walks off, Harry sits down to finish his lunch amidst a baffled number of Gryffindors. He then returns to the Room of Requirement to swap with Ron before informing him of today's events.

"Are you bloody mental to be causing trouble like that?"

"Just swap with me after classes. You wanna watch McLaggen get owned by yourself?"

"People don't get asked something like that every day, you know. But yeah, I guess it'll be brilliant to see," replies Ron.

"What's with that look, Hermione?" asks Harry. "You're not... planning anything, maybe?"

"Well, I, um, no... ugh." She then sighs. "Cormac McLaggen's a heck of a Keeper, Harry. Even for you this will be a tough challenge. I'm free to cast a Confun—"

"No!" says Harry firmly. "The son of James Potter doesn't need trickery to best this arrogant Gryffindor. I'll take him down fair and square."

"Says the guy using Polyjuice," chortles Ron.

"Whatever, you know what I mean. Mister McLaggen won't know what hit him later on." Harry smiles before watching Ron and Hermione exit the room for their afternoon classes.

 


	7. Keeping up with Practice

With Tuesday's classes already at an end, a chilly breeze fills the Quidditch stadium beneath cloudy skies. The sun has certainly begun to set now, necessitating the use of many lighting spells to illuminate the stadium for this evening's contest after dinner. Even Harry's decided to rather eat first before getting this session going.

Some of team Gryffindor have taken to the stands while Angelina, McLaggen and a Polyjuiced-Harry stand in the centre of the field. Flying above are Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, both of whom are to test their potential Keepers via penalty shots. Up in the stands, many students have come to view this evening's spectacle, even non-Gryffindors who Angelina has decided to let stay.

"What? Why are we letting the enemy watch our practice session?" asks McLaggen quite rudely to Angelina.

"Because we're not practicing, McLaggen. This is merely a challenge to see who's our future Keeper. Besides, everyone's already seen you both play at least once."

Looking around the stands, Harry spots around a dozen students each from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, while the Gryffindor stands are noticeably crowded. For once, the Slytherins don't seem to be jeering at him at all, probably in the hopes of McLaggen losing out somehow.

"You sure you want to do this, Weasley?" asks McLaggen, while rolling his shoulders and flexing his arms. "Been putting my free-time to good use since I'm pretty well-connected, you see. No need for me to work too hard academically, but I've been working out, if you know what I mean."

"Really?" asks Harry, feigning surprise.

"Keeper needs to be of good build, Weasley. You're average at best, unlike me."

"Better average than arrogant." Harry's reply has Angelina stifling her laugh. "You need to learn when to quit boasting."

"Perhaps I'd think about listening to you, Weasley, if you'd at least put up a fight against Slytherin last match. Amateurs need to learn their place on the team. Watch and learn while sitting on the reserves and maybe you can try again when I'm out of school," says McLaggen. "Right, Captain, let's get this over with already so I can go sleep."

While McLaggen takes up position at the goalposts, Angelina whispers to Harry.

"For God's sake, Harry, beat his arse out the team, please! Even if you were to return to team Slytherin tomorrow, you'd be doing me a world of favour by beating McLaggen. I just can't stand his bloody annoying, condescending attitude."

Cheers and whistles come from everyone but Slytherin as McLaggen hypes up his spectators. This leaves Harry to scoff and reply:

"Oh trust me, he is going down. Only I can be so confident out on the pitch, because I'm the King of Slytherin."

"Chasers!" shouts Angelina. "Start the penalty showdown now!" She then takes to the skies as well to join Alicia and Katie.

Harry watches Katie fly in from the centre with Quaffle in hand as the crowd certainly livens up. After taking aim, she goes for goal through the right hoop... blocked by a smug McLaggen. Next up is Alicia whose shot is also blocked followed by Angelina failing to score. Katie flies in for the fourth attempt at goal which McLaggen blocks before the ever-arrogant Gryffindor stops a fifth attempt.

"Five out of five, Weasley! You're either going to lose or we repeat the shots again!" shouts McLaggen, who descends to let Harry take up position with all eyes on him now.

Katie goes forward to take the shot aimed left, she throws... and Harry knocks it away with a backhand fist. Next up comes Alicia who aims centre after flying right, her attempt is stopped as well. This is followed by Angelina's trick shot being caught by Harry. Now the crowd (mainly Gryffindor) begins to cheer louder while chanting Ron's surname. Both the fourth and fifth attempts at goal are then saved by Harry who stands on his broom to liven up the crowd.

" _WEASLEY! WEASLEY! WEASLEY!"_

"Restart, and we're taking 'em harder this time!" says Angelina, who has McLaggen take up position. This time, all three Chasers mimic an actual game (as opposed to simple one-player penalties) where they pass to one another. Although they do keep in line with the rule stating only one Chaser can enter within scoring range, the build up requires tremendous focus from the Keeper. It's quite easy to focus on one or two players only to get outwitted by a sudden pass to the third right outside the scoring area.

Back and forth the trio passes to one another before Angelina takes a shot on goal... narrowly saved by McLaggen. For the second attempt, it ends up being a sudden pass to Alicia that is again narrowly saved before Katie takes the third...

"GOAL!" shouts Harry from the sidelines, as McLaggen slams his fist on his broom. The latter readies himself for the fourth attempt while Harry prances up and down the boundary line, much to the Gryffindors' amusement.

The fourth shot ends up being saved before McLaggen appears to be losing his temper at the constant trick play (and Harry's mockery). Once Angelina comes in to skilfully take the fifth, McLaggen dives right but only gets his fingertips to the Quaffle as it goes in for goal.

"Three out of five saved!" declares Angelina, as she now has an enraged McLaggen swap out for Harry to take up position.

"Come on, Ron!" cheers Ginny from the stands, while many others follow suit.

First up comes a skilful bit of passing from Angelina, to Katie, to Alicia who goes for goal... saved as Harry rolls left. For the second attempt, Angelina ends up narrowly scoring past Harry before he saves Katie's next attempt. Alicia takes the fourth strike on goal which Harry saves by kicking it away. Finally, the fifth shot comes flying from Katie after receiving the Quaffle from Alicia...

"Saved!" declares Angelina, who battles to suppress her glee. "That's four out of five for Ron Weasley while Cormac McLaggen only saved three. I believe we've found our new first-choice Keeper!"

"Give me another go!" demands McLaggen, who's met with fierce resistance by Angelina.

"You lost fair and square so get over it already."

"He got lucky!"

"How?" Angelina folds her arms while glaring at McLaggen. The latter now storms off the pitch while yelling insults towards the other Houses.

"Very charming, isn't he?" asks Harry. "If he could've just gotten over his foul temper and attitude... oh well, I suppose every House has its bad apples."

The rest of team Gryffindor (even though they know it's Harry) swoop down to congratulate their new Keeper and hold him up high. Although Ron had stood in for McLaggen in the previous match, he's now technically secured his place on the team via Harry's intervention.

The latter decides upon leading the way out the stadium only to be confronted by a dozen Slytherins. While standing in front of team Gryffindor, Harry spots Nott, Zabini, Vaisey, Montague, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, as well as the fifth-year girls.

Nott claps his hands slowly, and quite sarcastically, while the group sings " _Weasley is our King_." Far from being intimidated, Harry bursts out laughing.

"Is that your best? Come on,  _Theodore_ , try a little bit harder."

"Don't you dare use my first name,  _poorblood_! And why are you even so confident in the first place? Sure, nice bit of keeping up there but anyone can look good in front of Gryffindor's pathetic Chasers."

Harry gestures for the team to let him do the arguing here, which they oblige as Malfoy speaks:

"Fifteen goals, Weasley, that's how many Vaisey, Nott, and Montague got in last time. You boys aiming to beat the equivalent of catching the Snitch in our rematch?"

"Of course," sneers Montague. "And Zabini's looking to block more than 50% this time." He then turns to look at Ginny. "Let's hope Gryffindor's tramp girl Seeker doesn't end up in the Hospital Wing again... or not. Let's hope she does."

"You cheating cowards!" shouts Ginny. "Oh, sure, go and place two brainless farts on brooms to knock me down... with their bats! What? You rotten Slytherins gonna try and bash us all out again after we retaliate?"

"Why didn't you idiots see out a game which you were winning?" asks Harry to Nott's team. "Why'd you go and knock the Gryffindors all down like that?"

"The Gryffindors?" asks a puzzled Malfoy. "You  _are_  one of them, idiot! Can you believe this? I think Weasel temporarily forgot his own House, hahaha!"

"Know your place, Malfoy, below Harry Potter that is," says Harry, who smiles as the boys sigh once more.

"This  _again_?" Zabini groans loudly. "Are you in love with Pothead or something that you keep talking about him? Potter-is-history, simple as that. As for you, poorblood, where'd you get this confidence boost from? You think it'll last until our game? We'll give you a nice little reality check again."

Scoffing slightly, Harry walks right up to Nott, who's nearly on equal height to Ron. "So tell me,  _Theodore_ , how exactly did Slytherin's tryouts go this year? Did you line everyone up for a blood test and background check? Forgo talent for blood status?"

"We have both, and you have neither," replies Nott, looking quite smug with his witty response. "Come and do Arithmancy like me if you think you're so smart, Weasley."

"I don't need numbers to calculate your idiocy,  _Theodore_. Perhaps I'll ask Trelawney to predict how stupid you are." Harry now puts on an imitation of the Professor that has the Gryffindors sniggering behind him. "The celestial bodies are no longer in your favour, Nott. Uranus will suffer when we dominate you..."

"RON!" shouts Fred and George in unison as they can hardly control their laughter. "BRILLIANT!"

"You make one joke and you think it's funny?" asks Nott, who then sees Pansy trying to stifle her laughter. "Why are you laughing at  _his_  joke?"

"Sorry, reminds me of... never mind."

"I don't see what's so funny about that," says Vaisey. "It's just a planet's name which can be misused by immature idiots."

Malfoy agrees. "Yes, he must've been chatting with Scarhead because only Potter would've made such a stupid joke. He's making you even dumber than usual, Weasel."

"If I'm dumb then what will it make these Chasers when they fail to score much past me?"

"He's awfully confident..." whispers Zabini to Nott, which Harry just about overhears.

"I'm the King of Gryffindor now, you prats!" Harry whistles for Fred and George to hoist him on their shoulders, which they do. "You think you know how to run Slytherin, Malfoy and Nott?"

"Please, what would you know about that? Poverty boy," says Malfoy, while Nott nods in agreement. "I think I see what's going on here, do you, Nott?"

"Of course! Weasley's definitely used some kind of spell to boost his confidence. Too bad Madam Hooch checks for those things before a match. So he'll be his usual troll self once more come next Saturday."

Both groups begin to disperse up the slopes, though Harry takes another opportunity to get at his rivals.

"So which of you,  _Theodore_  and  _Blaise_ , are trying to date Miss Parkinson over there?"

"Shut up!" retorts Zabini.

"Just you watch what we do in our match," warns Nott.

Pansy, meanwhile, merely flicks her hair while looking quite haughty indeed as she walks on. A sight that sends a slight shiver down Harry's spine, though he keeps this to himself.

"It's too bad that Harry's told me you losers don't stand a chance with her," says Harry, who enjoys Pansy's brief pause at another mention of his name.

"STOP TALKING ABOUT POTTER!" shouts Nott. "He's a filthy half-blood loser who—"

Harry claps his hands slowly while gesturing towards the unimpressed duo of Millicent and Tracey walking nearby.

"Whoops, Nott, did you forget that Tracey and Millicent are the same as Harry?"

"Wait, girls, I didn't mean—"

"Piss off, arsehole, hmph!" Tracey smacks away Nott's handshake before storming off with an equally peeved Millicent.

"Now look at what you made me do, Weasel!" says Nott, while Pansy glares at Nott as well.

"In case you forgot, Theodore, those two are still my friends," she says. "And not everyone in the world is pureblood, you know."

"Yeah, well, pure is better, right? Me and you—"

"Nott." Harry sighs and shakes his head while perched on the grinning twins' shoulders. "Just keep your mouth shut before you make things even worse."

"I'm gonna smash you with that Quaffle, you piece of poverty rubbish!" Nott hurries his teammates up the slopes while Harry remains laughing with the Gryffindor group.

"I'm gonna smash Uranus, Nott! Hahahaha!"

"You really know how to handle your—"

"Shhhh!" Harry gestures for Katie to be quiet as Pansy, Daphne, and Sally-Anne are still nearby, discussing their insulted friends.

"Uh, Ron, I meant you really know how to handle those foolish Slytherins, yes."

"The tongue is one of the world's most dangerous weapons around," replies Harry, before Pansy looks comically up at him.

"The hell did you get so wise so suddenly, Weasley? Are you on drugs or something?"

"Only the best kind of drug, Miss Parkinson." Harry whistles for the Gryffindors to carry on ahead towards the castle, with the twins soon dropping him off in the entrance hall. This leaves Harry to continue up to the seventh floor beside an invisible Ron, and Hermione, before swapping out with the former.

With his first Polyjuice cauldron running low, Harry decides upon forgoing any impersonation and instead wandering around the castle beneath his Invisibility Cloak over the next few days. It's fairly interesting to eavesdrop on others' conversations which he can hardly believe are so casual, considering his warnings about Voldemort's return.

Angelina and the team do accommodate a non-Polyjuiced Harry by sneaking up to the Room of Requirement on occasion. Using the same setup as when practicing with Hermione, Harry joins in on the training by taking up the Keeper position. He's also informed the Captain of his idea of training up Hermione to take down Nott's team Slytherin.

"Hmph, I guess Harry's turning me into some sort of anti-pureblood weapon," says Hermione, after finishing a round of Seeker practice with Ginny. "Hope I'm not a lamb to the slaughter."

"Come on," says Ginny, while hovering on a broom beside Hermione in the Room of Requirement. "You're not as bad as everyone thinks. I'm sure Harry's more doing this for you than his own personal gain. I'd so love to see that  _Draco_   _Malfoy_  get taken down by someone he constantly views as inferior."

"Yeah," says Harry. "Who's the best Granger in the world? My Granger standing over here."

"That makes no sense," laughs Ginny. "It's been awhile since I've flown with you like this though, Harry."

"Like how?"

"Your own self, and not transformed into Ron."

"Did you miss me? Miss these eyes as green as a fresh pickled toad? Hair that's as dark as a blackboard?" Harry's words cause Hermione to softly laugh, while Ginny's cheeks redden.

"Gosh, I'm never going to stop hearing that poem, am I?"

"You were young with a big crush on a little boy, Miss Weasley," replies Harry, while patting her on the shoulder. "Little Miss Weasley."

"Uh, excuse me... I  _am_  still young, you know. And who are you calling little? I'm nearly your height now."

"Maybe I should nickname you Little Red Riding Hood?" asks Harry.

"No, please don't do that to her!" says a giggling Hermione.

"Who's that?"

"Or..." Harry grins mischievously at the confused Ginny. "Little Miss Muffet."

"No, really," says Ginny. "Who are those people?"

" _Little Miss Muffet,_

_Sat on a tuffet,_

_Eating her curds and whey_..." sings Harry.

Hermione leans on his shoulder while laughing loud enough to attract the rest of the team's attention. Meanwhile, Ginny looks at them all with a confused shrug.

"What's the joke? Tell me now!"

Hermione carries on with the rhyme:

_"... Along came a spider_

_Who sat down beside her_..."

Then, Harry and Hermione sing the final verse together:

_"And frightened Miss Muffet away!"_

While Ginny sighs and scowls, Harry turns to smile at Hermione.

"You're simply far too cute, Miss Granger, even more so while wearing Quidditch robes. You should've tried out years ago already, since Ginny's just as talented at Chaser as she is at Seeker."

Ginny grins at the compliment while Hermione looks quite pleased too.

"Well, it's good to see that you actually remember a Muggle nursery rhyme. Now  _that_ is cute, Mister Potter."

"Is that what those were?" asks Ginny. "Throwing Muggle nursery rhymes at me? Dad might find it interesting though, maybe mum too."

"The first one was a story,  _Little Miss Muffet_  is the rhyme, and of course I remember that stuff," admits Harry. "After all, when you're spending much of your time at home locked up beneath the stairs you tend to memorise them. Sort of like an early, nicer Azkaban I guess..."

Both girls seem lost for words on the topic of Harry's rather deprived childhood. Hermione, though, decides to lighten up the mood.

"What else do you still remember? Let's do another one before we hit the brooms again."

"Nursery rhymes again? I'm fifteen, and you're sixteen, Hermione..."

"Oh don't be like that, come on."

Harry smiles before standing beside Hermione as he tries to recall another rhyme.

" _Ring-a-ring o' roses,_

_A pocket full of posies,_

_A-tishoo! A-tishoo!_

_We all fall down._ "

"Getting a bit dark there, Harry," says Hermione. "Why do the one about the plague?"

"It's not about the plague," he replies, while Ginny watches the Muggle discussion with interest. "That's just some made up theory. I've always seen it as just a fun rhyme for kids playing in the park... which I've never really done."

Hermione smiles at him while continuing with:

" _Cows in the meadows,_

_Eating buttercups._

_A-tishoo! A-tishoo!_

_We all get up!"_

" _Jump up_ , you mean."

"Oh, my bad," laughs Hermione. "That was fun, brings back old memories of when mum used to sing them with me."

"You were an adorable first year, wonder how you looked before then? Uh, anyway..." Harry soon gasps before laughing softly. "Hey, you know what's funny?" He then gestures for both girls to come closer.

"What?" asks Ginny.

"I wonder if the big bad Dark Lord had to sing them in his childhood? Imagine little Tom being forced to go  _Incy wincy spider_..."

Ginny sniggers with laughter. "Shall we ask him?"

"You already missed your chance. Okay, just kidding, didn't mean to poke fun at your first year." Harry makes a begging gesture for forgiveness which Ginny eventually accepts. "Not a good idea though, I'm sure you'll see a nice flash of green soon after, which only three people survived."

"Who else survived the Killing Curse?" asks Ginny incredulously. "I didn't know there were more?!"

"Me, myself, and I."

"So predictable." Hermione folds her arms while rolling her eyes. "I saw that coming a kilometre away."

"A mile, you mean," corrects Harry.

"Metric system, Harry James Potter. So... about 1.6 kilometres, yes."

"In the Muggle world of Britain yes, Hermione Jean Granger. But not in the wizarding world." Harry mimics her by folding his arms and rolling his eyes too. "Go and ask... for example... Professor McGonagall how many centimetres of parchment she's expecting for your next assignment, then come tell me her response."

"I knew that! How can you expect me not to have noticed the Imperial system being used around here?"

"You two are starting to argue like an old married couple," says Ginny, while seeing Harry and Hermione leaning forward to face each other. The former now places his fingertips on a startled Hermione's cheeks before grinning.

" _Incy wincy spider climbed up the waterspout,_

_Down came the rain and washed the spider out_."

Giggling once more, Hermione now moves her fingertips up Harry's cheeks while singing:

" _Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,_

_So incy wincy spider climbed up the spout again_."

"This is probably the weirdest thing I've yet seen," says Ginny. "Do me too!"

"What are we? Six years old?" Harry tries to think up one more rhyme before returning to practice. Even with a few confused teammates watching on from a distance, he cups his hands on a giggling Ginny's cheeks while whispering:

" _Twinkle twinkle little star,_

_How I wonder what you are._

_Up above the world so high,_

_Like a diamond in the sky._ "

Ginny blushes a far bit from Harry's whispering up close, then Hermione speaks to break the silence:

"Let's get back in the air because I really want to wipe that smirk off Malfoy's face. Oh, and I suppose I'll come back here after Prefect patrol's done."

"Really?" Harry smiles while looking at her. "You're planning on spending the night with me in the Room of Requirement? In my bedroom? In your... oh yesss... pyjamas?"

"For work reasons, Mister Potter. I hope there's nothing sinister going on inside that head of yours?"

"Nothing at all, uh-uh, nope. What are we doing tonight?" he asks, while grinning cheekily.

"We are doing  _work_  which will prove most beneficial to you. I was thinking of revising the Draught of Peace, since we did that at the start of this year's Potions."

"I reckon this room could give us the ingredients to brew it, right?" asks Harry.

"I suppose, though in limited number. Food cannot be conjured but since these are ingredients, and therefore close enough but not truly food, there'll be a bit available for us. I guess not even the Room of Requirement is a perfect solution to everything."

"It's good enough for me, just like you are." Harry takes to the air once more as Hermione joins up for practice with Ginny. Ron, meanwhile, also takes turns playing Keeper on the other end as the Chasers alternate between each side.

At eight o'clock, Angelina and the rest of the team bids Harry farewell before Ron and Hermione head out for Prefect patrol. This leaves Harry alone to take a much-needed nap before Hermione's return in a few hours time. Her voice soon whispers in his ear, causing him to stir on the bed.

"Psst, wake up, sleepyhead."

"Who's there?" he mutters rather groggily, before his glass are slipped on by Hermione. "Sorry, didn't expect to sleep this much. Probably still deprived from prison."

For some reason, Hermione's cheeks are a noticeable shade of red as she stands beside the four-poster bed.

"Well, I guess some things never change, hmm? This reminds me of when you stayed over at my place during third-year holidays." Her gesture downwards has Harry looking to see his usual reaction to sleep. "At least you still have your trousers on."

"Why do you act so shy? I bet Viktor Krum didn't have his trousers on last year, did he? Krum probably showed you more than just his bum..."

"Harry James Potter!"

"So, is he probably an extra large sausage compared to me? A...  _Russian_   _polony_ down there?"

"I can't believe what goes through your mind sometimes, seriously, ugh!" Hermione prepares to punch Harry's shoulder, but the latter swiftly pulls her down onto the bed before getting hit. This brings the startled girl right on top of a smirking Harry who wraps his arms around her waist.

"You decided to physically assault me, Mugglebabe. All I did is act in self-defence now." He soon turns the gesture into one long, tight hug that catches Hermione off-guard.

"H-Hey." Her eyes widen as she's face-to-face with Harry. "You do realise that you're still, well, poking up somewhere? Are you perhaps half-asleep to be acting like this?"

"Oh no." He moves one hand up her back to bring her head closer to his. "Just showing some appreciation for my brilliant girl."

Now, in the silence of the room, he smiles before pulling her in for a brief kiss. One that is just so swiftly returned before Hermione rolls off him and sweeps her hair aside.

"Harry Potter!"

"You forgot the 'James', my dad wouldn't be impressed by that."

"I thi— would you stop smiling already!?" She finds it rather difficult to reprimand Harry for his actions now. "You're not the first though... Viktor beat you to it."

"Ha-ha, well, Fleur Delacour beat you to my first proper kiss, Miss Granger."

"Oh, sure, I forgot how  _perfect_  she seemed to everyone."

"Are you jealous?" Harry sits up on his bed as Hermione does the same. "I've always been hesitant to speak about other girls around Ginny and you."

"And why's that?" asks Hermione, who continues to smile after Harry's sudden embrace.

"It's just... it always seemed like Pansy was so chilled about everything. I'm not quite sure if you, no offence, non-Pureblood girls tend to be the same."

"Ginny's a Pureblood too, remember?"

"Yes, but I'm talking more, I dunno, 'higher-class'... ugh I don't want to sound rude."

Hermione laughs a slight bit at Harry's hesitant look. "It's alright, I know what you mean. But I do reckon Parkinson's the type of girl that wouldn't mind sharing her boyfriend, or at least that's how she seems to me."

"That's quite a sensitive topic from where we come from, eh? The Muggle world, that is." Harry sees Hermione's thoughtful expression and decides to rather drop the topic. "So, um, shall we get cracking on our Draught of Peace?"

"Sure, let's exit first to change the room a bit."

They now exit and walk thrice pass the entrance before re-entering to find everything pretty much the same. The difference being an extra cauldron in Harry's room, as well as just enough ingredients to complete their intended potion. There also appears to be a different door which has replaced the one on the bedroom's right.

"And now? What's that?" asks Harry.

"Unlike you, I do happen to wash every single night, thanks."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding." Hermione ruffles his untidy hair. "Your bathroom was lacking a bit, so I thought up a more lavish one. Don't get any ideas though, this ain't the Prefect's bathroom."

"Never been in there yet."

"Oh, my bad. Well, I really think you ought to take a nice relaxing bath every night. Add some Draught of Peace to your evening meals as well to relieve the stress and anxiety which you're clearly under."

"Hmph, I just wish I could stop hiding and come out already. Gotta wait until Professor Dumbledore and whoever else gets things sorted."

The look on Hermione's face conveys much sympathy towards Harry's situation as she leads him to the workstation. Beside them are a number of Polyjuice-filled cauldrons stewing away over their fires while the new one sits on the table. Hermione soon opens her fifth-year Potions textbook while Harry gathers the nearby ingredients.

"You alright?" she asks. "All set? Not that I doubt your Potion-making abilities though, you're quite good."

"Lead the way, bushy-babe."

"Very funny, ahem, soooo... we'll start with adding powered moonstone, stop once it's green. You know, like your eyes."

Shaking his head and grinning, Harry sits beside Hermione while following her instructions. He then stirs as told until the potions turns a shade of blue before adding more powered moonstone.

"Stop, ah, that's a nice shade of purple as it's supposed to be, yes." Hermione nods approvingly, though she shoots Harry a stern look once he starts teasing her again.

"What's next, Professor Headmistress Minister Granger?"

"Really now?" Hermione smiles while continuing to read through her textbook. "Well, my little student, we shall let 'em simmer until it's pink. Hold your horses, be a good boy, and wait the required amount of time."

"Whatever you say, ma'am."

Minutes later, they carry on following the textbook's instructions as the potion gradually gets completed. Hermione guides Harry's hand with her right in adding some syrup of hellebore until the mixture turns turquoise. It's then left to simmer until purple while Harry shakes some powered porcupine quills. He then adds them to the potion until it turns red.

"For something that's supposed to put a person at ease, this potion's a killer to brew!" Harry now stirs until it's orange before adding more porcupine quills until the mixture's turquoise. Next up, they let it simmer until the potion's purple before adding powered unicorn horn until it's pink.

"Nearly there now, stir until it's red..."

Harry obeys every word from Hermione as he stirs as instructed then lets it simmer until it's purple. This is followed by adding more powdered moonstone until the mixture turns grey before allowing the potion to simmer until orange.

"Toss in those porcupine quills until the potion goes white. Your hair sometimes reminds me of a porcupine, Harry."

"Oh you're so very funny."

Finally, he allows it to simmer and cool down yet again before adding exactly seven drops of hellebore. Soon enough, the potion emits a light silver vapour once it's finally finished. Both students high-five each other before breathing a sigh of relief.

"That was nuts!"

"O.W.L. standard, Mister Potter." Hermione now wraps her right arm around his shoulders. "Do you now understand why I'm so concerned over your absence this year? This is just one Potion and you barely got it right, with my help that is."

Just as Harry's about to respond, he looks down and sees Hermione still wearing her mysterious single glove.

"You've had this thing on for weeks already, what's the point?"

She swiftly withdraws her hand before Harry can remove her glove. "You're not planning on taking it off in my sleep, are you? Perhaps I should return to my common room."

"What exactly are you hiding from me, Hermione Jean Granger?"

"God, you're persistent!" Her expression softens surprisingly quickly, before Hermione looks hesitantly at Harry. "If I show you what's on my hand will you promise not to do anything rash? I won't risk letting you expose yourself which would undermine Professor Dumbledore's efforts of getting you back here."

"What's on your hand?"

"Promise!"

"Okay, fine, now take off that glove because it's making you look like a wannabe gangster nowadays."

Hermione slips off her glove before holding her hand with its back facing Harry.

"The shit is this?" He grabs it swiftly before reading: " _I must not tell lies and persistently defend a murderer._ " After a moment's pause, Harry looks her in the eye. "Hermione, what is this?"

Her expression reminds Harry of a sad kitten, though he decides upon keeping that to himself as she explains about Umbridge's detentions.

"THAT TOAD PIECE OF SH—"

"It's okay!" she insists. "Professor Dumbledore ceased my detentions quite a while back. I've also been treating this to some essence of murtlap which really helped." Hermione then gasps, though soon giggles, as Harry plants a kiss on the back of her right hand. "Very charming, Mister Potter."

Before Harry can respond, a sudden  _pop_  sound alerts him to a most surprising appearance of Dobby. The elf now holds a letter from Sirius, a wise move considering the many owls being checked by Professor Umbridge.

"Dobby will now return to the kitchens, please do call on Dobby if Harry Potter wishes to send a reply to the good sir, Sirius Black."

"Thanks!" Harry waves to the elf who disapparates back down to the kitchens. "Well wasn't this just the randomest thing ever?"

"I wonder what Sirius could have written. Open it already, and stop worrying over my hand. It'll take awhile but eventually these scars will heal away."

"I'll scar Umbridge..."

"Harry!" she half-sighs, half-laughs. "You're so bad sometimes. Come on, read your letter already."

After opening it up, he places the parchment on the desk before them while Hermione rests her head on his shoulder.

_"Dear Harry,_

_Joke's on me, I guess. Thought I might surprise you for the Christmas holidays by decorating that bedroom used by Ginny and Hermione over the holidays..."_

"I remember that one."

"Shush when I'm reading, Hermione!"

"Oh, my bad, sir, do continue."

Harry shoots the grinning girl a stern look before carrying on with the letter:

_"So I tried putting up some Slytherin stuff, you know, banners or whatever else Tonks and I could get. Anyway, I leave the room for just one minute and guess what?_

_Kreacher of all things suddenly comes and gets all dedicated to finishing the decorations. I have more than half a mind to kick this stupid house elf and shut him up."_

Hermione gasps, but allows Harry to continue reading Sirius' letter:

_"Now he's taken over my little surprise because decorating a room in Slytherin style reminds him of my worthless brother, Regulus. Even more is the fact that you played Seeker for the House team. I'd like to hear your opinion on how to get at Kreacher for taking over my Christmas surprise._

_From: Sirius."_

"Oh no, he's going to hurt that poor elf! Yes, we all met the insulting Kreacher over last Summer but he's not in his right mind," says Hermione. "Tell Sirius not to do anything harmful."

"Why? Kreacher knows I'm a Half-Blood, so why's he suddenly being a bit nicer? So many people say I remind them of someone else that it's getting a bit ridiculous now. If it's not Snape then it's what... Sirius' Death Eater brother? That makes no sense at all. Oh yeah, I forgot that I remind Dumbledore and Ginny of Tom Riddle himself. Funny how things just happen to me sometimes, even favours from deranged old house elves."

"Harry James Potter, you'd better tell Sirius not to harm the poor elf or you can forget about my help this year!"

Hermione stares Harry down so fiercely that he whistles. "Whew, I do like a dominant girl at times. Alright, fine, lemme start on my reply."

"Hmph, at least you're taking my advice, Mister Slytherin."

"Right, so who do I remind you of?" asks Harry.

"A frustrated boy who wears glasses and cannot keep his snake under control." Hermione laughs at her own joke while Harry sarcastically applauds.

"When you see  _my_  basilisk you'll be more than petrified, hahaha!"

"Not funny."

"Okay, sorry, pathetic joke."

Once Harry's finished his reply to Sirius, he summons Dobby to deliver the letter. Meanwhile, Hermione seems to have brought along her pyjamas and soon freshens up in the bathroom before exiting with a wide yawn.

"Gosh, I'm so tired."

"Gosh, you're so hot in pyjamas."

"Gosh, I think you ought to get in that bath already." Hermione yanks Harry up from the chair before tossing his pyjamas towards him. "And shhhh when you come out because I'll be reading over my Runes textbooks."

With nothing else left to do for tonight, Harry gets cleaned up before climbing into bed. Since he's already taken a nap earlier, this keeps him awake long enough to simply watch Hermione study. She tucks herself in while revising her work with exceptional concentration. An hour later sees her finally starting to drift off as Harry shuts her book then places it on the dresser beside their bed.

"Ssssweet dreams," he hisses in her ear, causing Hermione to moan.

"Don't do that, you sly snake. Now go 'Slytherin' your side of the bed."

"Damn it, stole the joke right out my mouth."

"You're never going to keep quiet, huh?"

"It's not like I have any classes tomorrow or— mmmf?" Harry finds himself pulled into another swift kiss before Hermione laughs and rolls onto her side.

"Sweet dreams for you then, big-mouth."

With a beaming smile, Harry eventually falls asleep as well, his dreams nothing but random silliness as the next morning draws closer. By the time he sits up, Harry looks to his left at the empty bed before heading to the bathroom. It takes a few tries to wash away the cherry lip balm which hadn't been on his cheek last night, but it certainly elicits a wide smile from him now.

 


	8. A Leetle Reunion

In the days leading up to the rematch of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, Harry gets through the fifth D.A. meeting with some improvements of his own. Slowly, but surely, does his wand acclimatise to its new owner during practice. Hermione, however, wastes no time in teasingly congratulating him like a little child, much to the amusement of most. The arrival of Thursday, the 7th of November, sees Harry getting an early morning letter from Sirius recommending that Harry personally accompany him to Gringotts for the Nimbus 2000s' funds.

_"...Bill Weasley said there's someone you might be interested to see working there now. I'll have Dobby Disapparate you to Grimmauld at lunch, and remember: keep a low profile._

_Regards: Sirius."_

Confused and equally excited, Harry remains in the Room of Requirement until the mid-morning break when Ron enters. The latter soon takes a seat on his usual recliner while stretching out.

"Hermione doesn't know we're gonna swap now," says Ron, before spotting Harry's latest letter. "How many do you get?"

"They're usually from Sirius and, occasionally, Tonks too. So, uh, hair please?"

Ron pulls out a couple of strands before glancing at his timetable. "You really wanna brave Snape's class as me? He'd see right through you in a heartbeat, well, unless you suck enough."

"Don't beat yourself down like that, man." Harry grabs the bits of red hair before doing the usual clothing and wand swaps. "Snape already knows about me, so does McGonagall."

"Are you serious?"

"They're Dumbledore's most trusted teachers, remember?"

"Dunno what he sees in Snape though." Ron decides upon battling his way through Binns' essay as Harry heads to the bedroom. After pouring himself a glass of Polyjuice, he adds the hair before transforming and grabbing Ron's bag on the way out.

"See you later, mate."

"Cheers, mate."

Harry's lone walk down many stairs to the dungeons proves rather uneventful this morning. Eventually, he heads down the dungeon corridor that he's seen countless times before while approaching the Potions classroom ahead. The clock hits 11am right as Harry enters the already filled room where Snape awaits him in its centre.

"Five points from Gryffindor for barely making it on time, Weasley. I expect far less tardiness this year, especially from a Prefect."

Many Slytherins snigger and point at Harry while Snape continues to berate him in the centre of the class. The Gryffindors remain fearfully still while Harry forces himself to act like Ron. Snape, however, narrows his eyes while staring into Harry's blue ones, and the latter practically feels the subtle Legilimency being used.

"Well, well." Snape looks around the classroom before curling his lip at Harry. "Feeling a little  _strange_  today, 'Weasley'?"

"I'm feeling perfectly normal today, sir."

Malfoy scoffs the loudest of his group while speaking. "That's not saying much, Weasel King."

"Hmm." Snape seems to be looking around with a hint of mischief before snapping his fingers at Harry. "There's your seat for today, Prefect." He appears to be pointing towards a surprised Pansy. "Miss Parkinson, move up for your partner today."

"What? But, sir—"

While Pansy tries to protest the decision, Harry spots Hermione staring at him with widened eyes. Her expression suggests that she realises it's in fact him here today, in Potions where Snape's seen right through him.

"Is there a problem, Miss Parkinson? Do speak up..."

"Several problems, Professor!" Pansy's defiance has the rest of her Housemates in fits of laughter while the Gryffindors scowl in return. "I don't want him screwing up my learning experience today."

"Yeah! You tell 'em, Parkinson."

"Nobody asked you, Nott." Harry snarls but swiftly realises that Snape would certainly punish him more, as he's now Ron.

"Sit down, Weasley, before I throw Gryffindor's 'esteemed' Prefect in detention."

Pansy's look of sheer hostility towards him is one that's truly strange to Harry as he approaches her.

"Don't you friggen sit on that seat, it's Harry's! Take that one." She gestures to her left. "Don't touch me, don't even bother me, and for God's sake don't try and 'help' me with my brewing. Save the screw-ups for your side of the classroom, Weasley. Don't even talk to me about Harry even if you're in contact with him. I don't want to hear your voice while I'm focusing here."

While Snape has the class begin their revision on the Strengthening Solution, Harry sits doing practically nothing. A loud whisper soon comes from a few metres to his right.

"If he so much as looks wrong at you, Parkinson..."

"Shut up, Malfoy," whispers Harry slyly. "Enjoy your Prefect status until Harry Potter returns."

"Returns?" Pansy looks at Harry quite curiously. "Is he really coming back?"

"You said I shouldn't bother you nor screw up your work, so ignore me and get brewing, Parkinson." Harry does as Ron would by glaring at her and sitting somewhat sulkily at this workstation.

"Weasley!"

Harry sighs as he knows that Snape would certainly seize the opportunity of getting him today. Now the former wonders if he's wasted his time by sitting through this one-and-a-half hour lesson.

"Why aren't you doing anything over here, Weasley?"

"Parkinson won't let me near her cauldron, sir."

"Haha!" Zabini points and jeers at Harry while the Slytherins laugh yet again. "And for good reason, Weasel."

"Another five points from Gryffindor for laziness, Weasley." Snape stares down Harry as if awaiting some form of retaliation. But with none headed his way, Snape turns around to inspect the rest of the Gryffindors. Meanwhile, Nott leaves his seat to swiftly sit opposite Pansy, while glaring at Harry.

"I'm watching you, Weasel King."

"Flippin' hell." Pansy drops in her fourth ingredient while glaring at Nott. "You'd better get your arse off Harry's seat."

"But he's long gone," replies Nott. "Times have changed for the better."

"Just because you're Pureblood doesn't mean Parkinson has to love you, boy." Harry leans forward to glare back at Nott while Pansy simply carries on brewing.

"Did you just call me  _boy_? Who the hell do you think you are, Weasley? A blood traitor must address his superiors properly."

"Call me a blood traitor all you want, but at least I have a loving family. All your daddy loves is grovelling to You-Know-Who. Not to mention your dad thinks the same as you, thinks he's entitled to anyone just because of blood status. Women do have tastes, you know..."

"Tastes?" Nott throws his arms up before slamming his fist on the table (which annoys Pansy). "DON'T YOU LECTURE ME LIKE THAT! What would you know about tastes anyway?"

Everyone turns to look at the commotion of a livid Nott, and a casual Harry seated near an uncaring Pansy.

"Mr. Nott," says Snape, while hurriedly approaching the table. "What is the meaning of all this shouting? Why haven't you started on your potion?"

"Weasley's distracting me, sir!"

"You're the one that came running to insult me here, Nott," replies Harry. "Don't blame me if you're not brewing."

"Two points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn, 'Weasley'. As for you, Nott, get back to your seat and start working. In fact, all of you need to focus on your work if you hope to pass this critical year." Snape strides to take a seat at his desk once again.

"Oi." Harry eventually darts his eyes up from his textbook as Pansy's about to toss in the next ingredient. "Read step seven again."

"Piss off, I suggest you help yourself before looking at others... oh crap!" Pansy scowls at the slight mess-up she's just made.

"I told you so."

Harry's words are ignored as Pansy desperately manages to somewhat correct her brewing. The minutes drag by as Harry eyes various students heavily focused on their work, while Snape remains looking at him from the Professor's desk.

"Two points from  _Gryffindor_  for looking around in a clueless manner, Weasley."

Sighing, Harry now directs his attention towards a frowning Pansy, who's finishing her mixture.

"Don't look at me, Weasley!"

"Blimey, does everyone in this class hate me or something? And what if I do look at you, Pansy?"

"Since when do you use my first name?"

"Pug-faced Parkinson."

"If you're trying to get me angry in class, Weasel King, it's not gonna work. Let's see how you do in the rematch come Saturday."

"Don't you miss Harry Potter?"

"I  _will_  smack you stupid, well, even more stupid."

"Hermione's quite close with Harry now, you know," says Harry. "Even more so than me, since she even sees him on occasion."

"Perhaps I should have a little talk with the Muggleborn."

The bell soon rings to signal the start of lunch hour as many students place their potion samples on Snape's table. With everyone but Harry having exited, Snape stares him down at the door.

"While you may possess some brewing abilities, I'd suggest that you watch yourself around here."

Deciding to remain in-character for his act, Harry shrugs. "Abilities? I'm not sure what you're talking about, sir. My grades are usually around Acceptable at most."

"Hmph, well do exercise caution around the High Inquisitor, Mr.  _Weasley_ , as I won't be held responsible for anything that happens if you're caught. Now get out and get on with your day."

Harry wastes no time hurrying out of Snape's classroom before making his way to the spiralling staircase ahead. Soon, he hears Pansy speaking with Hermione halfway up the stairs as they're in quite a secluded spot.

"What do you want, Parkinson? Come to throw some insults again?"

"I'm here to deliver a message for Harry, since you're apparently in contact with him." Pansy looks to the right as Harry approaches. "Just great. If you tell anyone about this, Weasel, I'll make you pay."

"About what?" Both Harry and Hermione watch confusedly as Pansy grins mischievously. She now puts on a slight bit of lip gloss before turning to face Hermione.

"Here, pass this on to Harry when you see him again."

"Parkinson, what the he— llmmf?"

"Bloody hell!" Harry gawks upon seeing Pansy pulling Hermione in for one passionate kiss on the lips.

Her hands reach behind to firmly grab Hermione's arse during the embrace. Ten long seconds later, Pansy finally pulls away and smirks at the shocked girl.

"You pass that on, understand?" She pats Hermione on the cheek before laughing while climbing up the steps. "Don't be a stranger, Muggle-wuggle Granger!"

"Tell me this is a dream," mutters a bewildered Harry, while Hermione feels her lips.

"I just... I just got kissed by  _Pansy Parkinson_."

"That was the hottest thing, since Fleur herself, that I've seen in this school. Goddamn, that was absolutely nuts..."

"That insulting, annoying...  _minx_  of a girl just pulled me into a kiss!"

"Well, I didn't see you resisting at all." Harry grins at the blushing Hermione. "Why didn't you push her away?"

"It all happened too damn fast."

"Looks like my Pansy doesn't mind going both ways at times," whispers Harry in Hermione's ear. "Now that is what I call sizzling hot. You liked it, admit it."

"I did not!"

"Yes you did."

"Prove it." Hermione remains glaring at the grinning Harry, who stands right in front of her.

"Let's see... heavy breathing, pupils dilated—"

"It's dark in here, of course they're dilated!"

"—cheeks flushed... oh you're so turned on by Miss Parkinson, aren't you? Not that I blame you at all."

"Shut up."

"Getting awfully defensive there, Miss Granger. Enjoy the taste of Pureblood? Is she sweet to your sour?"

"I'm sweet and she's sour."

"I think you're both sweet, and I think you both ought to work out your frustrations in the Prefects' Bathroom. Throw off your robes and have some fun, my Mugglebun."

"Oh great, now you've both got new nicknames for me."

"What if we both one day..." Harry rubs his palms together. "Have some fun with you? Triple threat match? Two-on-one? One-on-two?"

"She touched me without my permission, that counts as harassment which I should report."

"Hermione, Pansy was just having some fun with you. Look on the bright side, at least that's better than what used to be 'Mudblood' and other Malfoy-level insults. Besides, it's best not to let anyone else hear about this."

"So I should just let Parkinson have her way with me?"

"What's the worst that could happen?"

Hermione's expression turns embarrassed indeed as she decides to rather drop the topic. "Isn't there something you need to do right now?"

"Oh yeah, Sirius." Harry hurries up to the seventh floor corridor before entering the Room of Requirement with Hermione. As Pansy's technically seen 'Ron' witnessing her kiss, Harry decides upon informing the real one anyway.

"WHAT? That's absolutely, one-hundred percent mental! Merlin's most saggy left—"

"Okay!" laughs Harry. "I think we get it."

"It's now two hours since you took your last Polyjuice dose," says Hermione. "But, surely you're not planning on going to Diagon Alley as Ron? That's going to raise more than a few questions."

"Perhaps I'll wait things out at Grimmauld until I'm back to normal. Just gonna put my hoodie up and head off to the bank like before."

Minutes later, Dobby appears to transport Harry (who's already swapped wands with Ron) to the dining room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The elf bows before returning to Hogwarts while Harry's greeted by an amused Sirius.

"Well hello there, Ron! Skiving off from school are we?"

"Very funny, Sirius."

"Your mother certainly wouldn't approve of you being out of Hogwarts...hmm..." Sirius' mischievous grin lets Harry immediately know what he's planning. "How about a surprise prank on dear Molly?"

"Are you nuts?"

"Come on, James, just for old times' sake."

"No way. Last thing I need is for her to send a letter... maybe even a Howler... that's intercepted by the High Inquisitor. That, and how do you think she'll react to her Prefect son's education being occasionally disrupted by me?"

"You said Ron studies when you're taking his place in class, right?"

"Yeah, but Mrs. Weasley can be very pedantic. So, I'm afraid we can't pull this Polyjuice prank on her." Harry remains defiant in his decision, which Sirius eventually accepts. "Where's Tonks? I'd like to tease her over my transforming abilities."

"At work, Harry. She is an Auror, remember?"

"When's she coming home? I do like Tonks."

"Of course you do. I think she'll be back around this evening."

With little else to do besides wait things out, Harry and Sirius remain at Grimmauld for the next few hours. In respect for his godfather's intended Christmas surprise, Harry doesn't mention nor approaches the bedroom decorated for him at all. After another two hours of sitting around, casting spells, studying, and having lunch, he soon reverts back to his own self.

"Now there's the Harry that I remember, it's about time."

"It's just after two, shall we be off to Diagon Alley?"

"You bet. Bill's got a nice little surprise for you." Sirius smiles at Harry as the latter heads to the boys' bedroom on the second floor to get changed. But once he's in his usual casual wear, Harry hears a familiar voice:

"You'd better get back to school as soon as possible to fill that empty head of yours, young Slytherin," says the portrait on the wall. Instead of its usual bland backdrop, there's now the image of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard. His Slytherin-themed outfit elicits a smile from Harry, though his cold, snide tone does not.

"Excuse me?"

"You are not excused, Mr. Potter. Pfft,  _adolescents_ , forever caught up in their own little problems thinking the world revolves around them. You may be one of the most famous Slytherins around but there are hundreds of students at Hogwarts. Is mediocrity your aim in life? This is O.W.L. year you are currently missing."

"Well, Professor Black, sir, what exactly am I supposed to do?" asks Harry, while facing the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. "I don't know a thing about politics so I'd be making a fool of myself trying to argue. Professor Dumbledore's taken charge of that."

"And you call yourself a  _Slytherin_?" Phineas Nigellus looks Harry up and down before continuing. "Letting Professor Dumbledore dictate your fate like this? Don't you want your own freedom? Where's the ambition, the cunning, or the self-preservation attitude required by those in our House?"

Folding his arms and narrowing his eyes, Harry replies. "Trying to make me doubt in the Headmaster, eh? I'm afraid that's not going to work, Mister previous Headmaster, sir."

"Don't get smart with me, boy, get smart with your work. What exactly are you up to these days that you're not sitting with your books? It's already November and you've barely grasped a basic understanding of O.W.L. year."

"I've got my own issues to deal with, thanks."

"Oh, boo-hoo cry me a river, would you?" Phineas Nigellus scoffs derisively in his frame. "If you're going to be part of this family, and spending time in our home, then it is expected of you to sit with your books. Ditch the riffraff waste of time and get studying right this instant. Or do you wish to bring shame upon yourself like all adolescents do?"

A knock on the bedroom door is soon followed by Sirius entering.

"Hey, what's taking so long? Oh, great, you're having a chat with my great-great-grandfather..."

"Be quiet, Sirius, do not interrupt a conversation between two Slytherins," says Phineas Nigellus.

"Don't listen to his complaints, Harry, I used to interrupt conversations between Slytherins all the time. Sorry, bad habit."

"Not focusing on your work, Mr. Potter, is what I'd call a 'bad habit'. Don't wait on Dumbledore to sort things out as that could take forever and ever. There's just about six or so months left of what should be your fifth year. So go sort your own issues out before it's too late."

Sirius raises his voice over his ancestor's. "With all due respect, great-great-grandfather, perhaps you ought to return and take a nap in the Headmaster's office, thanks." Sirius begins leading Harry out of the room while Phineas Nigellus speaks.

"You're only sabotaging yourself like this, young Slytherin."

The pair shuts the bedroom door before Sirius lowers his voice as they descend the steps.

"He's full of it, you know. Trying to make you all 'super independent' and stuff. Look, I do understand that it's great to be free but we need to exercise caution in these times, as Voldemort is certainly planning something behind the scenes. Having you acting out on the pretence of 'freedom and self-independence' is only going to make you an easier target." They eventually approach the Black family tapestry hanging in the drawing room. "You're still only fifteen, Harry, and not some independent-overly-powerful-superhero or something. See this?"

Harry looks to see Sirius pointing at a familiar face on the tapestry, someone whom the former is fairly well acquainted with.

"Poor old Bella, who you've already met and swapped insults with in prison. This is what happens to someone who thinks they know it all. As a kid, she was just about decent enough even while brainwashed by the usual Black family nonsense. But over time, right back at school already, she started wanting to know more and more, as well as idealising Voldemort's ways. She wanted to be 'free and independent' too, and look what that's done to her."

"But I'm nobody's puppet either."

"Of course you aren't, Harry. You're the son of two brilliant folks who've both made waves at school. People are often quick to remember Lily's brilliance but let's not forget your dad as well. The Marauder's Map, for instance, was just one of our wicked ideas. Becoming Animagi, right under everyone's noses, so we could keep Moony company under the moonlight was also brilliant of us all. James was a kick arse Chaser and adored by so many, but did he hit the books 24/7 or demand higher status? No."

Sirius smiles upon remembering fond old memories.

"There's a fine balance in life, Harry, between overwork and underperforming. Bellatrix went nuts trying to exceed everyone's expectations, including her own, to please her idols. Compare that to your father who kept his grades up, but who also made time for the fun parts of life. So don't listen to old Phineas' rubbish. Remember that he was likely the least favourite Headmaster Hogwarts ever had."

They eventually exit the house before making their way, via Muggle transport, to Charing Cross road en route to the Leaky Cauldron. With his hood up, Harry moves swiftly while Sirius' presence seems to draw some attention as they hurry onwards. Through the archway they travel into Diagon Alley and, eventually, towards Gringotts Bank.

"Voldemort's playing to his strengths by laying low," whispers Sirius, as the pair enter the bank to approach the counters. "That's why we haven't seen anything suspicious on our way here."

Everything seems to be in order as Sirius offers to pay for the brooms. After presenting his key, the trio of two wizards and a goblin set off for vault 711. There appears to be a reasonable amount of gold inside the rather deep vault where 700 Galleons are withdrawn in a bag. With their transaction complete, the group returns to the marble hall where Bill Weasley calls Harry over. The former stands at one of many doors leading off the main hall as he waves at Harry.

"You go on ahead," says Sirius. "I'll take a seat until you're back so... have fun."

"I still dunno what the heck this is about but alright." Harry leaves his godfather seated in a corner of the main hall before approaching Bill. "Hey, since when do you work a desk job, Mister travelling Curse-Breaker?"

"I guess you really missed out on the Summer holidays' discussions, but we'll leave that for some other time. Let's see..." Bill checks his watch. "Yep, just over half an hour left of some people's breaks. I convinced her to take hers now, even though she's fixated on her new job."

"Who?"

"Someone I know you might like." Bill leads Harry down a lengthy L-shaped corridor before coming to a halt outside a door on the far right. "Mum was worried sick over you, ever since you got taken away."

"Yeah, I'd rather not discuss that now."

"I can understand. But take this as an opportunity to rekindle some old love, which it seems you're in real need of. Dementors did a number on your face I must say."

"This is nothing compared to when I came out," replies Harry, while Bill knocks and enters the rather lavish office.

A peek in lets Harry see well-polished flooring, bronze filing cabinets and an elegant desk at the back of the room.

"Hey," says Bill to someone leaning over some paperwork. "Hello, hardworker, there's someone here to see you. This is supposed to be break, you know."

"Well, zis work will not feenish zemselves, you know."

That sweet accent has Harry rushing into the office to get a better look. He can hardly believe his eyes at seeing the young woman sitting with quill in right hand, and her pretty cheek resting on her left fist. Sleek, silvery blonde hair cascades down to her shoulders (and partly touching the desk too) as she continues to write.

"Well, I guess I'll give you two some privacy. Try not to make too much noise, if things go that way, cheers." Bill pats Harry on the back before taking his leave and closing the door.

Meanwhile, Fleur continues to check, fill out, and review various parchments on her desk as Harry stands fondly admiring her. Warm, fuzzy feelings surge from within as he continues to watch her every move.

"If you 'ave nuzzing important to ask me zen please leave my office."

She doesn't seem to realise that it's Harry who's standing metres away. His eyes follow the locks of hair resting on Fleur's smooth cheeks, and even her focused expression melts his heart. Memories of their time spent together steadily flash through Harry's mind.

"'Ooever you are standing at ze door, I do not appreciate being stared at on ze job. You can stare at me outside, in a pub, wherevair else, but not in my work." She begins to grow highly annoyed while furiously scribbling across her parchment. "If William Weasley zinks 'e is funny sending people to stare at me 'ere, I will be sure to give 'im a beeg scoldi—"

A slight, saddened smile crosses Harry's face upon locking eyes with Fleur's deep blue. The room feels strangely silent as they gaze upon each other for the first time in over four months. Silence soon broken by a quill dropped onto the table as a chair is pulled out from the desk. Unsure of how to respond, Harry remains still as Fleur slowly stands up from her seat.

"'Arry?"

"Um, hi."

She practically sprints across the office, even while barefoot, to grab him into a long-awaited embrace. Soft hands soon cup his cheeks tenderly before Harry wraps his arms around Fleur's waist. For nearly a minute they stand simply looking at each other, remembering the joys of last year.

"Fleur, you left your shoes at the desk."

"I cannot believe zat you truly went to  _zat_  'orrible place. You... look so very tired, 'Arry, what 'ave zey done to you?"

Determined to remain calm and composed, Harry speaks while Fleur strokes his cheeks. "I thought you'd left Britain forever."

"No point in crying all day long." She tilts his chin slightly up while looking at him. "I am so truly happy to see you again."

"What? No tears or crying into my arms or saying how much you admire me?"

A warm smile now appears on Fleur's face as she pulls Harry closer. "Zat is for you to do, since you are ze one 'oo 'as missed me so much, correct?"

"I'd be lying if I said no, leetle Miss Delacour."

"Just because ze Boy-'Oo-Leeved 'as grown one leetle inch since last school year, 'e zinks 'e is a big man now." Fleur kisses him firmly on the lips before wrapping her arms around Harry. "Well, I 'ave grown 'alf an inch since leaving school so you are still my leetle darling."

"We might as well share an office now that I'm kicked out of school."

Fleur's expression instantly saddens as her large, blue eyes widen a slight bit. The faintest hint of tears well up as she remains holding Harry against her.

"You must sue zem for all zis trouble one day, 'Arry, make zem pay for what zey 'ave done. But please not cry because zere is still 'ope zat you will go back. I was beginning to zink zat you 'ave forgotten about me after everything zat 'as 'appened since June."

"How could I ever forget a woman like you? Last school year, besides its end, was the best one of my life. All the fun we had, the first two tasks, everything was just so amazing. You're still as beautiful as I remember."

"Zank you, 'Arry, and I say you do still look good to me. It 'as only been a few months anyway, but zose must 'ave felt like years in zat Azkaban place. Forget ze effects of ze dementors on your face, I can still do zis if I want."

"Do wha—" Harry can't help but laugh as Fleur kisses him on each cheek, leaving rather pleasant burning sensations. "And I can still do this if I want."

He now runs his hands through her silky soft hair, causing Fleur to give a splendid grin that goes right up to her sparkling eyes.

"I really missed you, 'Arry. Shall we sit down? Zere is still fifteen minutes of my break left. Please do get off your feet and relax."

While Fleur walks to take a seat on a single couch near her desk, Harry rushes to fetch a chair for himself.

"What are you doing?" Fleur giggles as Harry (with chair in hand) turns to see her sitting on what is now a double couch. "Silly adorable boy, zis is magic." Her expression then turns to worry as she holds her own wand. "Do you... can you still do all zis?"

"Of course I can!" Harry withdraws his wand. "See my new one, pretty nice, eh? Please don't tell everyone about it."

"Is your new wand ze only zing zat seems to be a few inches bigger zan when I last saw you?" She laughs softly behind her hand as Harry tries to find a witty response. "Relax, I was just joking. But if I asked you to sit down, zen I am not joking."

Harry immediately takes his seat beside her while Fleur pulls him closer to rest his head on her shoulder. Even while she's dressed in formal attire, her presence feels as warm as ever for Harry now.

"Let us not talk about your 'orrible summer. Instead, 'ow are you coping with all zat 'as 'appened?"

"I'm just waiting for all the legal stuff to be sorted out," replies Harry, while placing his hand on her lap. "I need to go back and finish this year."

"Whenever I 'ave a day of leave, maybe I can teach you a leetle bit? I am not as good as a professor but I can try."

"Hermione Granger's trying to keep my theory going, I wouldn't mind if you could duel with me at home. Um, you'll have to ask Bill about my godfather's place. Secret charm and all that."

"Zere should be about seven leave days available for me until ze end of zis year. I am still new, you see. But it would be a pleasure to beat you, my darling."

"Oh really?" Harry swiftly looks at the smirking Fleur. "I might just surprise you,  _Mon Chéri_."

"Oh! 'E remembers ze words!" Fleur laughs before grabbing Harry into another warm hug. "Would you like some lunch?"

"Excuse me?" Harry glances in surprise at the seemingly random question. "How did we go from love to food?"

"Well." Fleur summons her lavish lunchbox from her desk. "Zere are no rules against 'aving zem together, but let us eat something now. My poor leetle teddy bear needs to be fed. 'Ave a sandwich, 'Arry, or better yet... let me feed ze pretty boy."

For the next few minutes, Harry amuses himself by letting Fleur feed him a sandwich. To her surprise, he returns the favour as well.

"So weird."

"Yes you are, 'Arry."

"Now that you're here, how long do you plan on staying?"

"William 'as told me about ze group which you are all part of, I will not say its name. But it is good to know zere are people willing to see ze truth of what is 'appening nowadays. As for me, well, zere are plenty of reasons why I would like to be 'ere to 'elp your group."

Harry reckons that Fleur's referring to the Order of the Phoenix, and she'd no doubt have joined up in memory of her murdered friend.

"So, you do not 'ave to worry about me returning to stay at 'ome for too long. But I will still check up on my family and close friends, yes?"

"Of course," says a smiling Harry. "Whatever makes you happy."

"Very good zat you understand. Now 'ow about we share a leetle something before you 'ave to leave at ze end of my break? Something to act as an apology for our quite short time together zis afternoon."

Once again, their lips meet for a slow, soothing kiss. Everything feels so right, so wonderful, before Harry eventually opens his eyes as their embrace ends. Fleur's warm hands now run through his hair while she stands up.

"I do not wish to get you into any trouble around 'ere, 'Arry. You already 'ave more zan enough to deal with in zese dangerous times." She helps him to his feet before holding his hands. "When I am off from work and knowing where your place of stay is, zen I look forward to 'elping you get better. My leetle love must get stronger for ze challenges of 'is difficult life."

"That is very much appreciated, Fleur. And I really do wish you the best of luck with your new job."

Fleur smiles before laughing quite softly. "I will also take ze opportunity of trying to better my Eenglish, zen per'aps I shall not sound too silly when talking to people."

"They're the ones that are silly if they think your English is that bad. You're fairly okay with it, you know."

"Of course I know, you know. It was just a zought. Well, I suppose we should be saying our goodbyes for now."

"You're not going to walk with me down the corridor outside?"

"It is better for you to stay hidden with zat hoodie up, my pretty. Ze world is probably looking to do you much 'arm zese days. 'Arry, let me say zat it was really wonderful to see you again, no matter 'ow short zis was,  _Mon Chéri_."

With a smile upon his face, and a precious warmth in his chest, Harry greets Fleur before exiting her office. Bill eventually leads him to the marble hall where Sirius has them swiftly exiting the bank to a chilly autumn's afternoon.

"Feeling any better? How'd your leetle reunion go?"

"Perfect, if not a tad short."

"That's how things are going to be from here on out. With Voldemort back, the good things tend to be so short..."

They soon head to Quality Quidditch Supplies where Sirius orders the required amount of Nimbus 2000 brooms. This is followed by exiting the shop, and then he pauses beside another one.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about Godric's Hollow."

"My family, yes." Harry sees that he and Sirius are standing right beside an ice cream parlour, which makes him grin. "Why not spoil ourselves for a bit? Our little family, I mean? Buy us each a tub to enjoy later on. You, me, and Tonks deserve something nice and sweet."

"Now that's a great idea! Keep low while I buy desserts." Sirius enters with Harry as they do business remarkably quick before starting their journey home. It proves far quicker to side-along Apparate from within the Leaky Cauldron to Grimmauld place before Harry finds himself in the dining room once more.

"Couldn't we have just done that in the first place instead of going all Muggle?"

"Yes and no," replies Sirius, who sets a few tubs of ice cream upon the dining table. "Common decency has us Apparating on people's doorsteps or anywhere outside the building rather than directly inside. That's assuming we're even able to arrive inside the place. It's highly offensive to simply pop out of nowhere in someone's establishment, and this includes the Leaky Cauldron too."

"And we certainly can't just pop out of nowhere in broad daylight along Charing Cross, eh? That puts us right on the Leaky Cauldron's doorstep... and most likely in view of Muggles passing by."

"Exactly, Harry. But once we entered the building from Diagon Alley's side we could side-along Apparate outta there. Best choice was to come directly into this wretched home since nobody's really at home anyway. But now that we're here, others probably won't simply pop into the place. You already know that Claremont Square opposite us is usually the best stop for an Apparition arrival, preferably in the dark. Popping sound can pass for anything with Muggles, so we usually check to see who's looking out their windows before crossing the street."

Spells keep the ice cream well chilled for the next few hours until Tonks arrives at 5pm. She enters, narrowly avoids tripping, then tiptoes down the hallway into the dining room where Harry beams at her.

"Good evening, Tonks."

"Wotcher, kiddo...uh, we having a party or something? Nice!"

"You can thank Harry for the idea, since he's the one that thought to get us desserts," says Sirius, who's already halfway through his tub. "Which one is Dora's, now again?"

"Which one do you think?" Harry looks from Sirius, to Tonks, before opening a tub of pink. "And it's bubblegum flavour as well, yeah."

"How'd you know I love bubblegum flavoured ice cream?" asks Tonks, while sitting down beside the grinning Harry.

"I think you mentioned it back when we were all cleaning here before the World Cup final."

"You seriously remember such a minor conversation from over a year ago?" Tonks seems torn between being amused and impressed as she savours a spoonful of dessert. "Mmmmm, this is just what a girl needs after a day spent investigating potential threats. If I have to read one more thing on Theodore Nott Senior today..."

"Here's one for you: he's always been eyeing Mrs. Parkinson like he's entitled to her," says Harry.

"Fat chance of that happening," laughs Sirius. "Nott Senior's an ugly git on the inside and out. You want another piece of info, Tonks? Harry over here's always been mushy mushy with the little Parkinson, which you probably already know. Oh, and Theodore Nott Junior doesn't approve."

"And before You-Know-Who returned, I remember you being quite friendly with the girl's mum, Sirius," replies Tonks, while scooping up some ice cream with her spoon.

"Yeah well, that's no longer possible these days." Sirius continues through his dessert while Harry gets started on his own.

"What is this? Some kind of kids and adults tag team match?" asks an amused Tonks. "Notts Jr. and Sr. trying to go for mum and daughter Parkinson but are forever thwarted by the big, bad Sirius Black and his godson."

"Mmm, this sure is delicious," says Harry, while savouring a spoonful of his ice cream.

"Mint, really?" Tonks sighs. "So predictable of you, but lemme have a taste."

Harry uses the same spoon he's eating with to give Tonks a sample which she finds pleasant enough.

"Still prefer bubblegum though. You stick to your Slytherin mint and I'll stay pink, yeah?"

As the clock nears halfway to six, the family of three remain at the table while finishing their desserts. This is followed by Tonks persuading Harry to keep up with his studies as they eventually lounge around in the drawing room.

"I say you should practice some Transfiguration because that's one of the hardest parts of the O.W.L. exams. Maybe try vanishing Kreacher?"

"Not funny," replies Harry, as he settles upon vanishing the tubs of dessert which they've just finished earlier. The rest of their evening's spent sitting around on the floor while Harry tries keeping up with some fifth-year work. Sirius soon joins the pair, and Harry can't help but smile from having his little family at his side like this.

 


	9. The Girl-Who-Lived

_Room of Requirement, Friday, November 8th, 1995._

Sitting near the edge of his four-poster bed, Harry looks ahead to see the reflection of Hermione in the mirror. As she's sitting in front of him, their eyes meet while both students smile at each other's reflection.

"So, remind me why I volunteered for such a nigh impossible task?" asks Harry, after clearing out a tub of Sleekeazy's and tossing it aside. "You're pretty, regardless of how your hair looks. Well, actually, I think you're quite cute when it's all bushy-wushy."

"Ha-ha what a comedian you are, Mister Potter." Hermione looks down at the textbook on her lap while smiling as Harry's fingers run through her hair. "You're the one that insisted I look good today."

"Like I said, you always look good."

"I didn't say I don't," replies Hermione, while reading through her work. "But I suppose, as news of my Quidditch practice has spread throughout the school, that I should look better. Fix my hair up good, Harry, and I'll be sure to make it up to you someday."

"I'm so fed up of hearing all those insults towards you." Harry starts combing the back of Hermione's hair. "This Muggleborn is going to stick it to all her haters, especially my so-called 'Housemates'."

"I keep telling you not to blame them all for a minority group." Hermione turns a page before leaning back to rest comfortably against Harry. "It's the classic example of wannabes acting up now that their superiors are gone."

Harry opens a second tub of Sleekeazy's while smiling. "Superiors?"

"The boy who's sitting against me and doing my hair, yes."

"You are quite a sweetheart, Miss Granger." Harry lathers the front of her hair before combing it aside. "Stop frowning in concentration this much, you're going to look old." He now runs his fingers along the slight frown lines on her forehead as Hermione continues to read.

"Look who's talking, you're the one with those dark circles around your eyes. Just let me rub some medicinal solution on and they'll get better."

"Shhh, you're distracting yourself from studying."

"Oh excuse me." Hermione softly laughs as she continues to read. Meanwhile, Harry empties the tub to thoroughly lather and style her hair until it's once again sleek.

"You look even better than at the Yule Ball now," says Harry.

"What an exaggeration."

"Would it kill you to accept the compliment?"

"Would it kill you to stop poking against my back already, hmm?"

"What?" Harry's eyes widen as he realises what Hermione's referring to. "Oh damn, I guess I was still thinking about Pansy snogging you senseless. Come to think of it, there hasn't been a single complaint from you yet, Lady Jean."

"Really now?" She gives a slight sigh before smiling. "And there really hasn't been much rest for your Firebolt since then, Sir James."

"Lord James, you mean."

"Lord Voldemort?" Hermione looks into the mirror as their eyes meet one more, and she now raises her brows challengingly. "What? No response? How disappointing of you, Pretty Professor Parselmouth Potter."

"In all seriousness, though, you're the Professor to me this year," says Harry, "since I'm  _this_  close to losing out on a year of my life."

While Harry brushes through Hermione's hair, she turns to look at him. Her expression conveys gratitude for his efforts this morning and noticeable concern for his predicament. "I won't let you fail, Harry, even if they only allow you back later this year."

"Glad to hear it, Muggle-wuggle Granger."

"Stop it."

"You got turned on by my Pansy."

"Be quiet! Blah blah blah I'm not listening."

"Well, maybe you'd listen to this," says Harry, "The owls should be delivering those five Nimbus 2000's at breakfast today. One for everyone besides Ronald and you."

"I can't wait to see the looks on those discriminative Slytherins' faces," declares Hermione eagerly. "This Mudblood is proud of it, and she's gonna beat all those snobby prats up."

"Preach it, whiny Hermione!"

"Stop teasing me, Horny Potter."

"I... what?"

Hermione stands up from the bed, runs her hands through her sleek hair, and now flashes a smile at Harry. This is followed by kissing him on the forehead before handing him a graded Transfiguration essay.

"78%, Exceeds Expectations? Where's the big fat 'O' as usual, hmm?"

"Alright then, I'll just put my lacklustre work back into my bag and be off to breakfast before Charms. Sorry it's not good enough for the prestigious Mister Potter himself..."

"Wait, don't go!" Harry runs to hug Hermione from behind, wrapping his arms around her warm body as she's about to exit his bedroom. "I was only joking."

"Of course you were, if you know what's good for you." She hands over the roll of parchment and pats his cheek. "Knock yourself out. Not literally, of course."

"I would join you but..." Harry appears thoughtful for a few seconds before responding. "I guess my peasant Gryffindors need to experience some joy for a change."

"Oh, whatever."

Grinning yet again, Hermione walks back a few steps before spinning around and exiting into the practice area. Meanwhile, Harry accepts breakfast (courtesy of Dobby again) while studying Hermione's latest Transfiguration assignment. He can't help but read through it in her voice which elicits a constant smile throughout the next hour.

According to the combined fifth-year timetable, Harry soon reads the following:

_Friday:_

_G: 1: Charms, 2: History of Magic, 3: Free, 4: Free._

_S: 1: Transfiguration, 2: Free, 3: History of Magic, 4: Charms._

_R: 1: Elective, 2: History of Magic, 3: Potions, 4: Free._

_H: 1: Astronomy, 2: Charms, 3: Potions, 4: Free._

He therefore knows precisely where each of the fifth-years would be for the rest of the day. But with most of his first Polyjuice batch nearly depleted, and the next two cauldrons only ready after mid-November, Harry's left with few options. It's either stay here or use the Invisibility Cloak to sneak about, since there's just enough Polyjuice left for tomorrow's match.

No sooner does it eventually reach end of lunch than Angelina comes bursting into the Room of Requirement. She's all smiles and hugs while thanking Harry for his gift, before suddenly slamming her fist to the wall.

"Whoa, what's up?" asks a wide-eyed Harry, as Angelina seems practically fuming.

"They're a bunch of gutless cowards, that's what!" She breathes deeply to calm herself down before taking a seat on Ron's usual spot. "Here, read this note from Umbridge. Seems she really does favour Slytherin after all."

Harry unfolds the piece of parchment handed to him by Angelina which reads:

_"Due to unforeseen circumstances, I, Dolores Umbridge, hereby grant a rescheduling of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. The 9th of November will instead play host to Ravenclaw against Slytherin."_

A moment's pause is followed by Harry looking up, his expression fairly horror-struck. "What the hell? 'Unforeseen circumstances'?"

Angelina nods while furiously drumming her fingers on the reclining seat. "I'll tell you what that really means: they're actually scared of your penalty performance as Ron, yeah. You just had to also see their faces when the owls delivered our brooms. So typical of them to go running to the High Inquisitor, probably Malfoy playing on his father's influence or something. The only person who can overrule this decision is Dumbledore, but he seems far too preoccupied for me to approach."

She sighs before looking at Harry rather disappointedly.

"I tried taking this up with Professor McGonagall but it seems that Dumbledore's got 'other concerns' taking up priority now. Probably you, Harry Potter."

Looking down somewhat guiltily, Harry nods. "Can't blame him for wanting to get me sorted out as soon as possible. There's still the hassle of getting permission for me to even use a wand again, let alone returning to school." He now crumples up the parchment in his fist. "All that effort I did to pamper Hermione this morning thinking she'd be playing tomorrow..."

"Yeah we all saw that, how very sweet of you." Angelina smiles while Harry starts pacing up and down the room as he speaks.

"Does the Ravenclaw team know about this?"

"I don't think so, and I doubt they've been practicing..."

This makes sense for Harry, who recalls Ravenclaw having played Hufflepuff on the 26th of October. A match that he's missed in favour of rather studying through Hermione's Potions and History of Magic assignments.

"Plus," says Angelina, "their next match is only meant to be in January against Slytherin. This is a totally unfair rescheduling for us all now."

After kicking aside a pillow, Harry voices his agreement. "I know I've got bigger priorities than House Cups and Quidditch, but I'm not letting our school be ruined like this. You see, this is why I so want to put Nott, Malfoy and whoever in their place."

"Yeah, but you've got things like expulsion, You-Know-Who, and whatnot on your mind already. I'm surprised you're even still worried over a sports game," replies Angelina.

"Look at the bigger picture." Harry folds his arms while leaning against a nearby wall. "If they get away with rescheduling their matches and playing this dirty all the time... what's next? Malfoy's already mentioned something sinister regarding some squad thing that's planned for them. This growing rot in Slytherin might take things further than just Quidditch. No, I'm not gonna stand by and watch those bastards have their way with things."

"So what's your plan then? It's already too late for poor Ravenclaw to suddenly start preparing for their next opponent."

It takes a few minutes of pacing about and thinking for Harry to formulate a solution. "See if you can warn Roger Davies and whoever's on his team this year." Harry stops Angelina before she can exit the room. "Oh, and bring me Cho as soon as classes are done, alright?"

"Cho Chang? Sure, okay."

Shaking his head and sighing, Harry takes a seat to read through a few books over the next hour (while having late lunch). More theory is followed by practice as he attempts to gain better control over his new wand. Eventually, the clock strikes half-past four, and Harry stops casting spells once Cho Chang enters the Room of Requirement.

"Good afternoon, Harry, is there a surprise D.A. meeting happening now?" Cho then puts her hand over her chest in playful shock. "Or have you decided that I'm the weakest link in this group that needs private tutoring? How dare you think that, Harry Potter, how dare you! I am a N.E.W.T. level student, for your information, hmph."

Her playful anger has both students soon bursting into fits of laughter before Harry settles them down.

"Alright, alright, enough jokes already. Has Angelina given you the bad news?"

"Uh-huh, yes..." Cho's expression drops upon considering her surprise game tomorrow. "Poor Davies is all up in arms now with Bradley and Chambers... our new Chasers in case you don't know. With Stretton and Burrow having graduated last year, our new team still needs time to gel together. Um, can I ask something?"

"You just did," laughs Harry, while gesturing for Cho to take a seat beside him on a nearby couch.

"Why do you still care about Quidditch this year? Especially considering the awful lot of hardships in your life now. I'm not just talking about You-Know-Who, you know."

Smiling at hearing this question yet again, Harry leans back before answering:

"It's about the bigger picture, I'm doing what's for Slytherin's greater good." He sighs while carrying on. "If they get away with all this Quidditch foul play then what's next?"

"Oh, funny you should speak about Quidditch foul play..." Cho eyes him quite strangely.

"Come on, not this again."

"But I've already forgiven you for all that so no big deal."

Harry smiles while still leaning back on the couch. "Look, as much as I might have done a little 'tactical manoeuvring' on the pitch, and Flint doing his stuff over the years, this is different. Now we've got a group of students running to some corrupt Ministry official to influence their Quidditch matches, not to mention how they went haywire in their first match. Or so I've heard."

"Yep," says Cho, "and it didn't even make sense back in October. They were winning quite a bit against Gryffindor before Crabbe and Goyle started whacking people with their bats. They also sent Bludgers to downed players trying to get back onto their brooms. Poor Ron was on his nerves from failing to save anything while Gryffindor's Chasers got picked off one by one. Then there's Ginny who got shoved into a spectator stand, and that set Fred and George off. By the time those Beaters fought back, Madam Hooch called the game off because it just got way out of control."

"What kind of impression is that going to make on the youngsters? Looks like that little bad group from last year got a bit bigger now."

Harry's reference to the Triwizard Tournament piques Cho's interest, and she looks at him with a saddened expression. "About last year, um, how are you coping with all that? It must be terrible living with such a loss, even Pansy Parkinson doesn't seem her usual self these days."

"No point in getting all mopey while the real culprit is still out there."

"But I can understand if you need to unwind a bit, Harry. There's nobody around now so if you need a shoulder to cry on..."

"I do not cry!" He sits up straight while putting on a defiant look. "I'm a tough guy."

"Are you telling that to me or yourself?" asks Cho. "Alright, but my offer still stands if you need someone to speak with."

"Now let me ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

Harry leans forward before standing up from his seat and revealing his Polyjuice plans for this year. Naturally, Cho's both impressed at his skill, and concerned over his safety.

"That is quite risky, Harry. Doesn't Polyjuice Potion expire after an hour or something? Well, it varies I guess, which makes the risk even greater for you out there. But why'd you tell me all this?"

"Haven't you been listening about my need to put Nott and co. in their place? Pureblood discriminative scum that they are..."

Cho now stands up to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Aren't you getting a bit too obsessed over babysitting your House?"

"It's not 'babysitting' when a boy's gotta stop this rampant rot going about. How can I just sit back and let people admire Theodore Nott or Draco Malfoy in these times? They're not worthy of taking over  _my_  House!"

"So what did you wish to ask me earlier? Let's hear it." Cho smiles as Harry suddenly fidgets with his fingers.

"Well, uh, you know my first position is Seeker, right?"

"Yep."

"And you know there's been a hectic unfair rescheduling against your House?"

"Of course."

"And you understand that I'll do  _anything_  to stick it to that bastard Nott and his team, right? There's still some Polyjuice left in my room, enough for what was supposed to be Gryffindor against Slytherin." Harry now looks Cho right in the eye. "I want to beat those scumbags, or at least make life difficult for them. So tell me, who's the Ravenclaw Seeker, hmm?"

"Seriously? You're looking at her." Cho appears quite surprised. "Wait a minute, Harry Potter..."

He nods while smiling, though his expression conveys little amusement. "Yes, so would you please let me have this opportunity? Your team is ill-prepared and will certainly be beaten to the Quaffle. You're a good Seeker, Cho, I mean it's not to say I don't believe in you, but..."

"Harry, I'm a  _girl_  in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh I've certainly noticed, Cho. But so what? I've slept in a dorm with five girls already for almost a year."

Cho's look of surprise soon fades as Harry explains about the hostility sent his way last year. Having had enough of his roommates' envy, he recalls moving in with the girls instead.

"I've seen most of them naked already, so it's not like I don't know what a girl looks like." Harry eyes Cho up and down. "You've got a nice build for a Seeker, never really took notice before."

She starts laughing quite a bit before shaking her head. "Are you so desperate to get back at your people that you'd give up your... your  _privates_? Hahahahaha!"

"Come on, quit laughing and take me seriously."

But Cho's in the zone now with her jokes, unwilling to let up her assault. "Well, I guess you're not giving up much, eh? Compared to Cedric, you're probably  _this_  little down there."

Seeing Cho gesture an inch long with her fingers has Harry looking down. "That's not funny."

She wraps her arm around his shoulders while beaming with a smile. "Come on, lighten up, I'm only joking. Fine, I'll give you a bit of hair but you'd better not embarrass me!"

"And you'd better go tell Cedric that it's me tomorrow. I don't want a 'good luck kiss' from him, ugh." Harry's cringe expression only has Cho laughing even more.

"That's a great idea! Maybe I just won't tell him at all..."

"No! You wouldn't!" says a shocked Harry. "Please warn him in advance."

Upon reaching the room's exit, Cho turns to look over her shoulder. "I'm going to bring some spare clothes up here now, since you probably wouldn't have anything for me to wear tomorrow. What? You don't expect me to waltz around naked under your Invisibility Cloak while you're wearing my uniform, do you?"

"That's an enticing thought indeed, Miss Chang."

"Cool it, Mister, and don't go using Polyjuice for anything devious." She narrows her eyes. "You only got one dose left for tomorrow, so do resist the urge to do some  _private exploring_  as me."

Once Cho's out the room, Harry softly laughs before sitting down with Hermione's work yet again. As promised, Cho eventually returns with some casual wear that she lays out on Harry's bed in his room.

"You sure you still wish to do this? It's by far the weirdest thing I've seen this year," says Cho. "I'm sure it'll be even weirder for you not to have anything, well..." She giggles before carrying on. "... _hanging_  down there. And, for your own sake, don't go doing anything silly like beating your chest or whatever when you're me."

"I'm so going to enjoy that pre and post match changing, not to mention the shower..."

"Harry Potter!"

"Haha! Relax, I'm just kidding." He pats her on the arm while speaking. "I'll have the decency of showing your body some respect, okay?"

"You'd better, or else I'll have Cedric come and smooch you."

"NOOOO!"

"Relax, now I'm just kidding. By the way, Davies is organising an emergency practice session after dinner tonight, so I'll go myself."

With everything set for tomorrow, Harry gives Cho some privacy to undress her uniform which she hands over to him. Then, she pulls out a few strands of hair before waving at him before exiting the room in casual robes. This leaves Harry to have dinner alone in the Room of Requirement.

But there's still one last bit of preparation to be done for tomorrow. After grabbing more than a few Galleons, Harry sneaks under his Invisibility Cloak to the owlery for one special order. He then returns to the Room of Requirement where he summons Dobby to send a request for Sirius and, if she's available, Tonks to watch tomorrow's game.

"Tell them that I'll be taking part, and it'll be a real surprise when they find out who I am."

Once Dobby disapparates to Sirius' place, Harry tucks himself into bed for an early night's sleep.

***

Familiar dark walls soon surround him as Harry finds himself back in Azkaban, probably towards the end of his stay. So clear is this dream that he even acknowledges it while watching recent history repeat itself now:

_Eighty-five_  marked off on the cell wall shows that it's towards the end of his stay in prison. This is also one of the few times he's had a somewhat decent conversation with a certain someone. While viewing the scene from above, Harry sees his ragged, prison self sitting at his cell bars.

"...whew, are you looking to claw someone's eyes out with these, ma'am?"

Sitting on the other side of the bars is Bellatrix, who remains frowning as Harry appears to be inspecting her hands.

"How about I scratch your eyes out, boy?"

He laughs before shaking his head. "Then I wouldn't see the Dark Lord coming. He wouldn't be too happy taking down a blind opponent, oh no. The Dark Lord wants to kill me fair and square."

"Oooooh but he certainly will, little baby Potter. Stop touching my nails! Are you a girl or something?"

"Who needs a wand when you've got nails like these?" Harry widens his eyes while running his fingers along the scowling woman's fingers. "Could stab someone to death."

"That won't be necessary," says Bellatrix rather haughtily as she tilts her nose up. "For that, I just throw a knife and it's bye-bye bad guy."

"But aren't you the bad guy?"

"Bad  _woman_ , Potter, get it right."

"Oh, my apologies, Madame Lestrange," replies Harry, with his usual grin. Nearly three months in here has driven him _this_ desperate for social interaction.

"Well, at least the little Half-Blood has learnt to address his superiors properly. It's about time." She now pulls back her hand before rubbing it on her prison robes. "Cleaning off the dirt, mind you."

"Ah yes, didn't mean to spread my Half-Blood germs all over you. Is it contagious?" Harry forcibly withholds his laughter as he goes along with Bellatrix's game.

"At this rate, I might end up in St. Mungo's with a case of Incurable Half-Bloodilitis." Bellatrix grins wickedly while looking at Harry. "Speaking of St. Mungo's, you know that's the main reason why I'm in here, right?"

"Yeah, I've heard about the Longbottoms," says Harry. "At least my parents died, but Neville's are nuts now."

"Hahaha! Perhaps you should blame yourself for that, boy. If you hadn't  _temporarily_  stopped our Lord then maybe we wouldn't have needed to go and torture those idiots for information." Bellatrix now folds her arms while raising her brows. "Well, what do you have to say to that, Mister-Glorious-Baby-Potter?"

"I'm not gonna collapse into tears from guilt, if that's what you're looking for."

"Aww, how disappointing." She now leans closer to the bars. But for some reason, Harry doesn't feel as terrified as one should while coming face-to-face with the most dangerous woman around. "How exactly did you survive, boy? And what did it feel like? Do tell me."

"Um, I was like a year old back then..."

"Come on, try to remember!"

"I guess there was a flash of green, the one that killed my mum."

"Yes, yes," says an eagerly nodding Bellatrix. "The Mudblood, yes, go on..."

Seeing how focused Bellatrix appears, Harry now decides upon exaggerating the old, barely memorable events a bit. The dementors had been the only reason how he could recall the details of his parents' murder. But Harry now twists it to make it seem as if he personally remembers a slight bit.

"I think I remember seeing this man: tall, hooded, very evil-looking—"

"Ooooh, the Dark Lord, yes."

"—then there was something pointing at me—"

"His wand, yes, that beautiful-looking wand. I've always loved that spectacular bone-like design and how he handles it."

"—uh, okay then. So next thing I remember is this high-pitched, cold voice—"

"His voice, yes. High and mighty and above all else."

"—next came a flash of green and everything just went blank. Lots of pain and I think he was probably screaming too, difficult to remember. I think that's when I felt this scar form on my forehead... Hey! Don't do that, ouch!"

Harry pulls back as Bellatrix prods a finger on his scar, though her nail narrowly avoids scratching his forehead.

"That scar is the wand movement of  _Avada Kedavra_ , you know that, right?"

"Yes, I certainly do," replies Harry, while rubbing his forehead and seeing Bellatrix stand up. "So, what made you all decide to target the Longbottoms specifically?"

She shrugs. "They were some of the most prominent Aurors around. Thought they might know where our Lord went or what happened to him. Anymore questions before the dementor comes back? How might I satisfy your curious little mind before you're dead?"

"Well, before the Dark Lord turns me into a corpse, I'd like to know how you survived  _fifteen years_  in here? Three months is already too long for me."

Bellatrix now laughs at him before pointing to her temple. "It's all in the head, baby boy. You gotta have something to go by, and for those of us in here it's our Lord's return. He's come back, and we'll be honoured above all else!"

" _Fifteen_  years though, I do feel sorry for you. That's like over five thousand days already," says Harry, who shakes his head at the manically grinning woman.

"I don't need your pity, Potter, so I suggest you go and do whatever you want after this. Enjoy your little wittle leftovers of life before it's snuffed out like a candle at Hogwarts."

***

"Ugh, just another dream again..."

Saturday arrives as Harry now leaps out of bed. Since the Quidditch game is due to start at 10 this morning, he freshens up and studies in his room until breakfast. Once the clock hits 9, he summons Dobby to bring some breakfast for Cho, since she's unable to 'join herself' at the Great Hall.

"Time to be a lady!"

Harry empties his first cauldron into a glass before adding Cho's rather sleek black hairs. Seconds later, the mixture turns a shade of silver which tastes equally pleasant as he downs the glass. What follows is a remarkable set of changes that Harry would rather not voice out loud, as he transforms into Ravenclaw's designated Seeker.

"Wicked..." He (she?) strips down to Harry's own underwear which leaves his chest exposed, and it's certainly a strange sight for him indeed. Nearly everything feels different as he changes into Cho's uniform, regardless of it being Saturday.

The bedroom door eventually opens to a squeal as Cho stands in shock.

"Oh—my—goodness—gracious." She slowly steps forward while staring open-mouthed at Harry now. "So that's how I look from behind."

He mimics her giggling before twirling around and flicking his long sleek hair.

"You weirdo! I don't twirl like that. In fact, I never twirl at all. This is... this is just unbelievably strange, bizarre... but quite awesome indeed."

"Hi," says Harry (who stifles a laugh at his feminine voice), "I'm Cho Chang, sexy Ravenclaw Seeker at your service, ma'am. And you are..."

"Cho Chang the original, pleased to meet you, my doppelgänger! You look quite pretty, if I may say so  _myself_."

"You look quite pretty too, if I may say so  _yourself._ "

Both Chos giggle in remarkably similar fashion before the original smacks Harry on the shoulder.

"Hey, stop it already!"

"Stop hitting yourself then."

"So immature."

"Stop insulting yourself then."

Before Harry can head to the Great Hall for breakfast, he spends a few minutes at a nearby dressing table with Cho doing his hair.

"Never thought I'd be doing my own hair like this, Harry. Oops, meant Cho, sorry," says a giggling Cho. "This is nuts by far." She now runs her fingers through Harry's hair, causing him to deliberately moan out loud. "If you do that again... I'm warning you, Girl-Who-Lived."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Harry now practices various facial expressions to see how he'd look, which has Cho groaning in embarrassment behind him.

"God, you're making me look so silly now."

"I'm going to make you look so good in the air up there, Miss Chang. My Nimbus 2001 will give Malfoy a run for his money."

"Nimbus 2001?" asks an astonished Cho. "You can't go and nick a broom from Slytherin's side. That'll be far too obvious and will result in an instant disqualification!"

"Who said anything about stealing?" Harry smiles at Cho, while placing his hands on her shoulders. "I've basically invaded your privacy in more ways than one now. So it's only fair that I give you something in return, consider it a gift."

"You didn't..." Cho's expression turns even more incredulous as she looks at her smirking self that is Harry. "Did you?"

"Congratulations on being the first non-Slytherin player here to own a Nimbus 2001, Miss Cho Chang."

Nearly a minute's worth of stunned silence is followed by Cho grabbing Harry into a hug.

"Hey, way to show yourself some love, Cho, hahaha! But don't go falling head over heels for me now, eh?"

She steps back while smiling brightly. "I would never break Cedric's heart over you like that, no offense. But... you're a great guy yourself, Harry. Now I really don't know how I could've once been so upset at you."

"Heh, it's no big deal for me."

"Well, for me it certainly is," says Cho. "And I truly hope you do return to finish your years of school. Let's have faith in Professor Dumbledore, right?"

"I'm one-hundred percent behind the Headmaster." Harry now checks himself out in the mirror while neatening his skirt. "I dunno what feels weirder, this skirt or what's between my legs."

"Excuse me?" Cho's cheeks turn a most prominent shade of red as she stares at Harry. "I'm sure you'll get used to feeling the breeze from a skirt but... between my legs, really now?"

"Well," Harry grins most mischievously, "at least now there's no stress over the  _sack_ , if you know what I mean."

"I'll pretend that I didn't just hear that, Harry Potter. And don't you boys wear protective guards down there anyway?"

"To guard the family jewels yep, but now there ain't no jewels on me. Up here though..." He grins at Cho while gesturing to his chest. "That's what I'm talking about."

"You're so bad." She cups her cheeks in embarrassment. "So darn bad, Harry!"

"Bad enough to pamper you with breakfast here, huh? Fill your belly in the practice area, Miss Chang. My good friend Dobby's got you sorted." Harry now has them exit into the practice area where a variety of breakfasts have been laid across a table. "I suggest we swap wands, but don't mess around with mine."

"Your one looks quite odd, Harry," says Cho, as they exchange wands. "I wonder how Mr. Ollivander came up with this bone-ish design?"

"Don't worry about it too much, oh, and please stay out of my room. Trust me when I say that I'll know if anybody snoops around in there, alright? Once you're done with breakfast then grab my Invisibility Cloak and camp out in the Ravenclaw locker room."

"Sure thing. I guess it also gives me some time for revision, yes? N.E.W.T. level classes can get hectic quite quickly, especially Transfiguration." Cho takes a seat at the table while Harry smiles and leaves his Cloak beside her. She briefly discusses her friendships and typical conversations (to aid Harry's ruse) before wishing him luck. "Have fun out there, ladies' man... or rather:  _lady-man_."

Having estimated his latest dose to last anywhere from 5-7 hours based on its brewing quality, Harry calmly exits the Room of Requirement as Cho Chang. The hardest part seems to be getting her slightly feminine gait going, which he drops in favour of brisk walking. With each step, Cho's hair seems to bounce slightly and tickle Harry's cheeks, which he eventually manages to get accustomed to. Another change he's now getting used to is looking down to see Cho's chest area against her uniform.

"Looks weird, feels even weirder," mutters Harry, while also adjusting to the sounds of his shoes tapping along the stone floors. "The things I do for my bloody House..."

Near the base of the grand staircase, Harry spots Cedric standing at the top of the marble staircase.

"Uh, good morning, Cedric?"

The Head Boy battles with all his might to withhold his laughter while looking straight at Harry. "This I'm never going to forget. Never ever until I die one day, ahahaha! Want a good luck kiss for today's match,  _Cho_ , my love?"

"For God's sake..." says Harry through gritted teeth. "Cut it out, and just keep it cool."

"How's my darling doing? Are you nervous?" Cedric wraps his arm around a scowling Harry's shoulders as they now descend the marble staircase to stand in the centre of the entrance hall.

"Cut it out man, just act normal."

"But this is normal for us, isn't it, Cho?"

"For fu—" Harry's cussing is interrupted as a few Slytherins arrive from their alternative dungeons exit. Nott and Malfoy now step into the entrance hall through a side door, while a few Gryffindors reach the top of the marble steps. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia now glare at the smug pair of Slytherins walking across the hall.

"What you losers looking at from up there, huh?" asks Nott. "It's a shame that our rematch got postponed, because Weasel King seemed so super confident, hasn't he? And who the HELL bought you all Nimbus 2000's yesterday, huh? Was it Potter?"

Crabbe and Goyle now step through the side door to flank Malfoy as usual.

"Cowards," mutters Hermione. "You're all so scared of Ron being in-form, aren't you?"

Nott looks around at his group before scoffing at Hermione. "Pfft, looks like your uncontrollable bush is back, Mudblood—"

"Don't you dare"—Harry throws off a startled Cedric's arm before drawing his (Cho's) wand and striding towards Nott—"call Hermione a Mudblood." He now shoves the baffled Slytherin against a wall while holding his wand to Nott's throat. "I absolutely despise that word, you discriminative motherfu—"

"Whoa, what the hell is going on with Chang today?" asks Malfoy, whose surprised expression is mirrored by the Gryffindor team as well.

"Shut up, Malfoy," says Harry sternly, "I'll deal with you later."

Cedric can't help but lean against a nearby wall and laugh, while everyone else watches on in confusion. "You tell 'em, Cho, you show 'em who's the boss today, yeah! Hahaha!"

"Why's he laughing?" asks a familiar voice, as Zabini and the rest of team Slytherin step through the side door off the entrance hall. "What the heck am I seeing here? Are you being threatened by a girl, Theo?"

"Chang's gone mental!" Nott snaps his fingers at Cedric. "Head Boy, control your stupid girlfriend over here."

"Sorry," says a laughing Cedric, "but I guess Cho's feeling a little bit  _different_ today."

"What?" Nott and the Slytherins might seem utterly bewildered, but Harry soon spots Hermione gasping loudly on the marble staircase. It appears that the other Gryffindors are now catching on as they eye Harry with near-horrified expressions. Ginny, though, suddenly bursts out laughing which catches Malfoy's attention.

"What's that peasant laughing at over there?"

"You're the peasant, Malfoy," says Harry. "Completely poor with regards to common decency. Ginny's a far better person than you can ever hope to be."

"Nobody talks to me like that, especially not a woman, Chang." Malfoy folds his arms and appears quite smug. "Feeling emboldened by your Head Boyfriend?"

"Oh, he is so handsome, isn't he?" asks Harry, which has Cedric in fits of laughter. The strange response to  _Cho's_  compliment only further clarifies things for the already flabbergasted Gryffindors.

"Perhaps you should stick to snogging that Duffer instead of trying to play Quidditch," says Vaisey. "How many times hasn't Draco beaten you to the Snitch over the years?"

" _Draco_  got lucky a few times, namely when Harry James Potter broke off from his Chaser duties," says Harry, eliciting a fiercely arrogant response from Malfoy.

"I never asked for Scarhead's help back then! He's the one who served his superiors as expected."

If the Gryffindors haven't already realised that it's indeed Harry here now, his response to Malfoy seems crystal clear to them. The Slytherins, however, remain completely ignorant and cannot even suspect an impersonation here.

"I think that you Slytherins are a rot in your House," says Harry, who finds Cho's angered tone quite surprising. "Harry James Potter is the best thing that's ever happened to Slytherin, full stop."

"Full stop?" Montague looks around at his amused peers. "This sixth year Ravendork thinks she's clever with her words. Let's see how clever you can get with that pathetic Comet Two-Sixty against Draco's Nimbus 2001."

"Wait, wait, wait," says Zabini eagerly. "I think Chang's lover over there might borrow her his Nimbus 1700 again, right? Still an old broom though."

Cedric remains smiling as he casually replies. "Well, you see, Harry Potter's been remarkably nice to my Cho, hasn't he?"

"Oh yes, Cedric darling, he certainly has." Harry's response, in addition to him now batting his eyelashes at the amused Head Boy, has the Gryffindors half-shocked, half-amazed.

"First Weasley and now Chang," scoffs Zabini. "Looks like Potter's got himself two admirers these days."

"What's your obsession over Potter, Chang?" asks Nott. "Weasley probably never saw a Galleon in his life before Potter bought him that new Keeper gear. So, are you a gold-digger too?"

"Leave Ronald out of this, Nott," says Harry sternly, after having backed off at last. "I'd be more concerned over today's match."

"And why's that?" asks Montague.

"Because you see..." Harry walks to stand in the centre of the entrance hall while holding his arms at his sides. "...you may have cheated Team Gryffindor out of a rematch, and Ravenclaw into a surprise match, but life can be  _funny_  at times. I have a feeling this match might not end up the way you pathetic-excuse-for-Slytherins would expect."

"The Ravenclaw is mocking us," laughs Vaisey. "Someone who comes from a House where there's not even a raven used as its animal. Hey, 'clever girl', why not change your eagle into what's supposed to be a raven. RAVENclaw, duh."

"Duh yourself, Vaisey," retorts Harry. "Joke's on you because there's nothing wrong with us having an eagle. You see, it's 'raven' as in the colour of our eagle's claws. That, and the fact that Ravenclaw is our Founder's surname. It's one word, not specifically referring to a raven animal itself."

"Shut up already," mutters Crabbe. "Too much thinking is annoying us now."

Harry giggles much like Cho would do. "Sorry? I didn't catch that. All I heard was a bunch of grunts and noises. I don't speak Troll, sorry."

Ginny leans over the staircase railing while howling with laughter. "Oh my gosh, she's on fire this morning! Now this is a _Cho_ that I can certainly get used to, yes sir."

Meanwhile, Hermione stands with her arms on her sides while still gawking at Harry. During their brief bit of eye contact, he sees her slightly shaking her head in disbelief of him now being a female.

"Come on, boys," says Malfoy. "Let's stop wasting time with Chang and the Gryffindorks. Breakfast is waiting before our braniac beatdown."

Before any of the Gryffindors can approach Harry, he swiftly enters the Great Hall beside Cedric as the hype builds up for today's unexpected match.

 


	10. The Asian Snake

"What's Dumbledore playing at today, bringing an Auror to school? Or perhaps she's here to keep watch over him?"

"That girl's an Auror?"

"Yeah, I think she was here to arrest Potter when the Triwizard Tournament ended."

Many statements and speculations can be heard throughout the Great Hall as Harry enters for a lively breakfast. Seeing Nymphadora Tonks seated at the High Table without Sirius lets Harry know that his godfather hasn't pitched up. Perhaps it's for the best, and he knows it would've been a difficult decision for Sirius to stay at home. But then again, Harry almost face-palms upon realising how suspicious it would've been to have Sirius suddenly watching a Quidditch match this year.

Tonks appears to be seated near one end of the table while sweeping her gaze over the room. Umbridge, meanwhile, sits on the other end and hardly appears threatened by the presence of an Auror. Harry wonders if Tonks has acquired some 'official' reason of being here today, probably something to benefit the Ministry. Regardless, he's pleased to see a family member coming to view one of his games, even though Tonks' unaware of who he might be.

"Why you fighting with our boys, Chang?" asks a Slytherin girl who Harry hardly knows. "You should know your place as a loser."

Jeers and whistles soon erupt from a portion of the Slytherin table as Harry walks past. Unlike last year, Ravenclaw is now positioned near the staff one. From the double doors, it's Slytherin to the left, and Gryffindor on the right. Hufflepuff remains unchanged as they're seated between the Slytherin and staff tables while Ravenclaw sits between Gryffindor and the staff.

Angelina and her team soon enter the Great Hall while forcing themselves to avoid making a scene as they pass by Harry. Ginny battles to keep a straight face while passing who she knows is not Cho Chang standing near the Slytherins. Hermione, though, bites her lip while muttering "Good luck, _Cho_ ," before turning right to take her seat near Ginny and Ron. Their eyes remain locked onto Harry who makes his way down the aisle towards the Ravenclaws.

Checking his watch, Harry sees the clock hit 9:20 as a few more owls swoop down upon the House tables. Most notably are six large, screech owls carrying what is clearly a wrapped broomstick. This elicits quite a response as many students point and stare at the group approaching Harry in the centre of the room.

"Is that for Chang?"

"No way, is she getting a new broom?"

The Slytherins, however, practically stand up to watch Harry catch the package before the owls turn to leave. Meanwhile, Tonks' eyes are now as wide as Harry's ever seen. Her expression clearly shows a strong mix of shock and amusement as Harry briefly locks eyes and gives a slight smile. Not wasting any time, he rips open the package before casting _Evanesco_ once the wrappings hit ground.

"THAT'S A NIMBUS 2001!" shouts a Ravenclaw student, while the Slytherins whisper quite audibly amongst each other.

With a triumphant grin on his face, Harry walks towards one end of the Slytherin table. It angers him to see their Quidditch team seated right next to Pansy and the girls. Nott's doing, no doubt.

"How the hell could you fork out 200 Galleons on a broom, Chang? That price hasn't dropped at all since last year," says Zabini, who's seated two seats from Pansy. Sitting between those two is Nott stabbing at his breakfast with a fork while eating. The girls, meanwhile, seem just as baffled as the rest while eyeing Harry's new black broom.

"Where do you think Gryffindor got their bunch of new brooms from, huh?" asks Harry, while smiling at the various Slytherins looking his way. "Same place I just got this beauty from."

"Must be _Potter_ ," says Malfoy through gritted teeth. "No our fault he got kicked out and is living like a Muggle now."

"Are you nervous, Draco Malfoy? Not so arrogant when it's level terms, eh? What were you lot saying about my Comet Two-Sixty now again?" Harry locks eyes with each of the players glaring at him.

"Doesn't matter," scoffs Nott. "Your team is still ill-prepared for today's match. So not even Scarhead's foolishness can stop our perfect Pureblood performance."

"Perfect?" asks Harry. "If you two are so 'perfect' for Purebloods, Nott and Malfoy, then why does Draco suck up to his daddy like a loser?"

"Be quiet," responds Malfoy bitterly, while Harry looks at Nott.

"And you... hahaha, someone once told me a joke. Your father looks like a homeless man in some ways, even when he's clean-shaven."

Pansy pauses her eating before looking up with narrowed eyes at Harry. It's the same expression he's used to seeing whenever she's deep in thought.

"Who do you think you are, Chang?" asks Montague, seated opposite Malfoy, and with his back facing the Gryffindors.

Knowing that she's trustworthy (and wanting to see her reaction), Harry briefly shifts his gaze from Montague to Pansy.

"Good question, Montague." Harry grins quite mischievously while locking eyes with a pensive Parkinson. "I guess I'm going through a bit of a change just for today, you know?"

"No, we don't know, and we don't care about your girly things, Chang," says Nott, while the rest of the team agrees.

"Oh I remember this person who gave me the idea—"

"Go back to your table." Zabini seems to be growing fairly annoyed. "So what, folks? One broom matching ours can't win the whole game, even if she's Seeker."

"—we played around a bit, did some Muggle stuff around a park. For example, roller skating..." Harry looks to the right and sees the dawn of realisation on Pansy's face. Her expression now just as flabbergasted as the Gryffindors and Tonks were, even more so while looking him up and down.

"Yeah," says Nott, "like we care. No surprise that someone like you would like Muggle stuff."

Vaisey's finished his meal and now speaks without even looking at Harry. "You can tell your sponsor Potter that he shouldn't be sticking his nose where he no longer belongs."

"Okay, I'll tell Harry that, anything else you'd all like me to relay back to the King of Slytherin?"

"The what?" Nott groans loudly before almost pulling at his hair. "Oh, that stupid pretender wannabe self-proclaimed title."

"I think Harry Potter's quite cute," says Harry, while flicking his hair across his shoulder, and slyly flashing his brows at the open-mouthed Pansy. "And I think Pansy over here agrees too, right?"

She nods, though clearly still shocked at what she's seeing.

"What's wrong, Pansy?" asks Daphne, while Nott also turns to look at her.

"Yeah, something bothering you?"

"Girl stuff, Nott, would you like to hear about it?"

Shaking his head in dislike, Nott hurriedly returns to speaking with the Quidditch team. Pansy, meanwhile, still has her eyes widened while whispering to Daphne.

"We'll talk later."

Soon, Nott vents some of his anger towards Malfoy who now looks at Harry.

"Did Potter put your up to insulting us? Parkinson's a much better match for Theodore over Scarhead. Now how about you head back to your library side of the Great Hall and go eat?"

"If Ravenclaw's a library, then Slytherin's turning into a cesspool without poor Harry," says Harry. "Marcus Flint was a far better Captain than any of you losers, Nott or Montague, could ever hope to be."

"Don't listen to her, boys," says Malfoy, "because I'll be showing Chang who's boss in the air up there today."

"Hope you're ready to get beaten by a girl, Malfoy." Harry turns on his heels which causes his lengthy hair to swish about. "It's not my fault you cowards were scared of Ronald Weasley, because he was feeling... _improved_ just as I am."

"Shut up, stupid Ravenclaw mind-games," says Vaisey, as Harry walks across the Great Hall towards Cho's usual spot at the Ravenclaw table. As expected, they're utterly flummoxed from their Seeker's sudden new broom.

"Did you really spend 200 Galleons on one broom?"

"Isn't that a bit too much, Cho?"

"That's the second-best broom around!"

But with just half an hour to go until 10, Harry avoids unnecessary conversation and instead gets his breakfast down. Cho's appetite might not be as much as his, but Harry reckons her body should perform quite well in the air. In fact, she's much fitter than he'd first thought, and her core strength feels good enough to handle a variety of flying manoeuvres. Seeing the awestruck students passing his Nimbus 2001 right down the Ravenclaw table and back has Harry giggling now. This certainly reminds him of first year when he received his Nimbus 2000 at the Slytherin table.

"Pass it this way!"

"Hurry up down there, we'd like to see it too."

One of Cho's close friends (and part of last year's giggling group) now looks at Harry as the latter eats.

"How did you manage to get such a top-level broom? Has Cedric perhaps gotten it for you?"

Harry looks at the Ravenclaw student while smiling. "No, this is Harry Potter's doing. I heard from Ronald Weasley, who's heard from Hermione, that Harry's not impressed by this new Slytherin."

The girl seems rather curious now. "Why were you chatting with Ronald Weasley then? He's not of any benefit to us, is he?"

"Doesn't hurt to have a word when passing by someone in the corridors," says Harry. "Not to mention that I'm curious as to what Harry might be doing now."

With fifteen minutes to go before the match, Harry listens to the surrounding Ravenclaws discussing their views on him. It seems the general consensus is that he's fortunate to have been released from Azkaban so soon, and they reckon he's grieving his life choices at home.

"Yeah," says Harry, while standing up. "Well at least he still gets to hear what's going on around here. No doubt he's unimpressed by the discriminative chants going around. I wonder if You-Know-Who really is back, what do you girls all think?"

As expected, most students are clearly in denial of Voldemort's return. The few D.A. members nearby do speak up in favour of Harry, which makes him smile slightly.

"But there's just no evidence of You-Know-Who's return at all!" argues a sixth-year Ravenclaw girl, to which Luna Lovegood replies:

"I wonder what Harry fired his Killing Curse at then?"

The same sixth-year girl starts debating in favour of Harry killing Alyssa, since that's the 'logical explanation'. "Everything else is nothing but conspiracy theories and guesswork, Lovegood. Even that Veritaserum confession could've been influenced by Potter. Helloooo, he pulled off the Killing Curse quite effectively. That's some nasty Dark magic for a fourteen year-old. Plus, he took down a dragon, so what else was Potter hiding from us all?"

More non-D.A. members now enter the debate, with some using _The Quibbler_ as proof that Luna's defence means little. This is followed by quite a few jokes regarding the strange magazine and its editor.

"Have you all forgotten that my father's the editor?" Luna appears to be losing her dreamy nature as she glares at those around her. "I don't think such comments are very polite."

"Yeah," says Harry, whose swift defence elicits a few comical expressions. "No need to go off-topic like that. Leave Luna's dad out of this debate and focus on Harry _not_ being a murderer."

"Oh please, you're just defending Harry Potter because he bought you an expensive broom," says another sixth or possibly seventh-year Ravenclaw student.

"You can slander him all you want," says Harry, "but he's going to help us win against his rude House."

"Cho," says a girl seated nearby, "it's not slandering if it's the truth. But you're entitled to your opinions so that's fine. Just do your best today, okay? Can't believe how sneakily these Slytherins rescheduled things."

Cho might be soft and slight smiles on occasion, but Harry knows she's quite competitive. Therefore, it arouses little suspicion as he grabs his broom, hypes up the Ravenclaw table, then bows near the double doors. Following his little show, Harry now makes his way to the castle's grounds and, eventually, the Quidditch stadium.

He's first to arrive and takes the opportunity to explore the Ravenclaw locker room. A slight theme of bronze and blue decorates both the main area as well as the showers. While the Gryffindor locker room might have a homely feel, and Slytherin fairly elegant, Ravenclaw's feels the airiest of all so far.

It takes Harry a short while to locate Cho's locker which ends up being second-most right, along the back wall of the room. A photo of Cedric and Cho at the Quidditch World Cup is the very first thing Harry spots upon opening the door. Whether it's meant to elicits feelings of love, Quidditch motivation, or both, Harry doesn't think too much into it. All that matters is withdrawing Cho's Quidditch uniform now, which he takes into a room off the locker area.

The biggest change for Harry is not so much the bronze and blue colour scheme of his robes, but rather the transition from skirt to trousers again. Just when he's started getting used to being in female attire, it's back to the practically unisex Quidditch uniform now.

"Damn, Cho, what have you been hiding from us?"

Harry runs his hands along his toned abdomen, and Cho feels so smooth yet firm. But then he swiftly remembers to respect her dignity and ceases his 'exploration'. While it's true that Quidditch isn't exactly football, there's still a lot of muscle endurance required for various flight techniques. It might not make one the bulkiest around, but it's certainly beneficial for maintaining body tone.

After throwing off his uniform (including robes, shirt, tie, skirt, socks and shoes), Harry grins upon seeing his underwear-clad self in a nearby full-length mirror. He decides to 'sneak another peak' before slipping on his Quidditch uniform. Minutes' worth of changing ends with putting on protective guards for his forearms, and another pair covering his shins.

"Lovely," he mutters, while checking himself out in the bronze and blue scheme of Ravenclaw. "Cedric, you lucky lad—"

His thoughts are soon interrupted as two girls, Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal, enter the room. The former sports brunette hair and dark brown eyes, while the latter has black hair and hazel eyes. Both appear to be of average height, quite similar to Harry now.

"Wow, Cho, did Harry Potter really buy that broom for you?" asks Mandy, who Harry remembers as being called 'Amanda' by some folks, including Madam Hooch for some reason.

"He's not trying to hit on you from out of school, is he?" asks Morag. "You've already got one perfect boyfriend, remember?"

"No, Harry Potter is just not liking what he's heard about people like Malfoy and Nott doing around here. Don't you reckon Slytherin was a bit better with Harry around?" asks Harry, while walking to stand at the doorway to the locker room.

"I guess so, I mean, they weren't _this_ foul in the open," replies Mandy.

"Maybe that's because more than half of Slytherin liked Harry?" He tries not to act too smug while impersonating Cho. "Perhaps now the bad minority are feeling braver than ever? Well, let's get ready for our surprise match, shall we?"

"Damnit!" Morag kicks at a sack on the ground. "We haven't been practicing for weeks before last night's session. It'll take Mandy and I awhile to get those Bludgers on point today."

"Meanwhile, those new Slytherin trolls are gonna hammer our players," says a sighing Mandy.

Harry smiles slightly. "Don't you think Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole were better than Crabbe and Goyle? I certainly do."

"Yeah," says Mandy. "And Marcus Flint was quite handsome as well. I think we both like the old team more."

"Adrian Pucey was a looker too," admits Morag. "Too bad they kicked him and his girlfriend off the team for some reason. Joke's on Slytherin's Captain as that girl's now Head Girl. Bet she's more focused on her duties and work these days."

Once back in the locker room, Harry takes a moment to memorise the new Ravenclaw team that's basically played just one match together thus far. Standing quite apprehensively at the blackboard is Chaser and Captain, Roger Davies. He, along with Cho Chang, are the last remaining players from the previous team.

Seated on dark bronze benches are Bradley and Chambers, two average-built Ravenclaw Chasers with basic Quidditch experience. They're fairly tall which gives them some advantage in terms of reaching for the Quaffle, but this also makes them easier prey for Beaters.

This year's new Keeper is actually fifth-year student, Anthony Goldstein. Harry reckons that Roger Davies has purposefully chosen three fifth-year students since they'd know one another well. Two girls as Beaters, while their Prefect classmate plays as Keeper, seems to show a hope from the Captain that Anthony would direct them effectively.

Soon, all seven players take their seats in the locker room as Davies sighs before addressing them.

"Right, lads and birds, I know this is one foul move from Slytherin but we just gotta get this on. I don't exactly know why they made this change. Gryffindor's new brooms, maybe? Oh, speaking of which, that's some brilliant stuff there, Cho!"

"Don't thank me, thank Harry Potter, says a smiling Harry. "Or might you still be upset that he went to the Yule Ball with Fleur Delacour?"

"Uh, anyway," says Davies rather awkwardly. "Tactics, yes. Let's see... Bradley and Chambers, we did alright last game so don't stress too much."

"But we lost to Hufflepuff, remember?" Chambers sighs while looking at Harry. "Cedric just about beat her to the Snitch, 250-80 final score."

"Sorry," says Harry, who hasn't even seen that match. "I'm not going to lose out again today. Malfoy's got some skill but most of it comes from having a better broom than his opponents."

"Our main priority should be watching for Slytherin trickery. I think we all saw what happened to Gryffindor last match. The heck was that even about?" Davies straightens up as he continues to finalise their tactics for today.

Most of his planning seems to have been done in a rush last night though. Now the team can only hope their sole practice session for Slytherin would've been of some benefit.

"I have full confidence in this team, but Slytherin's got both broom and preparation advantage," says Davies, as Lee Jordan's commentary is soon heard. "Cho, try and finish this as soon as possible. Don't wait for us to reach a specific score, just go for the Snitch. We'll make up any lost points in our final game against Gryffindor later."

Harry nods as he certainly would like to get Slytherin's defeat done quickly. What nobody knows is that he is one of two students that has seen Professor Snape's unsupported flight. A technique that he truly yearns to be taught someday. Therefore, Harry hopes that his efforts against Slytherin would be understood and forgiven by the Potions master.

Like Harry's done many times before, he now lines up in the Quidditch tunnel. It may be with Ravenclaw but it hardly feels any stranger than with his own team. Quidditch is Quidditch, no matter for whom it's played, in his opinion.

"... Slytherin's finished their entrance and now gathered on the pitch. Here's your team of seven who've tricked their opponents into today's match," says Lee Jordan, while trying to act as 'polite' as possible. "Chasers are Captain Theodore Nott—who's not as great as Flint—then there's Michael Vaisey and Graham Montague. Beater positions taken up by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, as expected. Blaise Zabini guards the hoops—against an ill-prepared team—while Draco Malfoy flies in Seeker. Broom-wise, they're all on Nimbus 2001's while Ravenclaw sports Cleansweep Sevens... except their Seeker! Let's see how Malfoy likes it when it's level flying."

Annoyed at this unfair scheduling, team Ravenclaw simply strides out the tunnel towards the centre of the pitch.

"Here comes one valiant team Ravenclaw, give a round of applause, folks! Captain Roger Davies leads his final match against Slytherin while Steven Chambers and Kyle Bradley join him in Chaser position. Morag MacDougal and Mandy Brocklehurst will hope to whack many Bludgers towards their suddenly scheduled opponents. Anthony Goldstein serves as Ravenclaw's last line of defence while the talented Cho Chang plays in Seeker."

The excitement in Lee's voice is clearly felt throughout the packed stadium today.

"Look at her broom, folks! Is this not one brilliant year so far? Gryffindor got ourselves five new Nimbus 2000's while Cho over there received a Nimbus 2001. Couple that with Hufflepuff's full-on Nimbus 1700 squad and we've got a decent enough championship this year... except for when unfair matches like today happens."

For some reason, Harry feels remarkably comfortable in Cho's body as he stands facing familiar faces. As arrogant as expected, team Slytherin now watch their smug Captain shake hands (and exchange snide comments) with Roger Davies.

"Ready to head back to the library already, Davies?"

"Everyone can see you're cowards, Nott."

Madam Hooch swiftly splits up the argument before releasing the Bludgers and Snitch.

"Mount your brooms and get ready!" She now slowly counts to three as both teams take up the traditional starting position. How many months hasn't it been since Harry was last in the air like this? Well, he certainly enjoys the chance at another game of Quidditch as he sweeps his gaze over the surrounding stands.

Cheers and chants come Ravenclaw's way from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, their own crowd, and even a slight bit from Slytherin. Meanwhile, most fans in green and silver shout with approval for Nott's team which deeply annoys Harry.

" _CHANG IS A LOSER WHO'S JUST A USER,_

_SHE THINK'S SHE'S TOUGH,_

_BUT EVEN A NEW NIMBUS AIN'T GONNA BE ENOUGH!"_

Shaking his head at the boring song, Harry hovers a slight bit closer as the game gets underway. While the Chasers battle to seize early possession of the Quaffle, Harry flies right up to the jeering Slytherin crowd. It appears that the bad minority has grown larger, probably due to the addition of this year's youngsters. Just under half the crowd now seem less than enthusiastic for their new team.

"Don't get distracted by that lot, Cho!" says Lee Jordan over the magical megaphone.

_"CHANG SUCKS, CHANG SUCKS, CHANG SUCKS!_ _DRACO RULES, DRACO OWNS, RAVENCLAW SHOULD JUST GO BACK HOME!"_

It takes Harry a while to locate his five girls and, given their expressions towards him, Pansy must've voiced her suspicions on the way to the stadium. None but these five seem to be gawking at him, which lets Harry know that his secret is quite safe indeed.

"... Montague's through, shoots... SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN!"

Spinning around on his new broom, Harry begins searching for the Golden Snitch by weaving between the action. The sight of Crabbe and Goyle in his peripheral vision has Harry rolling aside to put some distance between him and those Beaters. Now he flies at a casual pace along the Gryffindor stands where everyone cheers team Ravenclaw on today.

"... unlucky there, Chambers, GOAL BY VAISEY! TWENTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN AFTER JUST FIVE MINUTES OF PLAY!"

To Harry's noticeable dismay, he looks up from his broom as a loud portion of Slytherin let out anti-Muggleborn chants against Chambers. But they are smart enough to avoid using the term 'Mudblood' in the open.

"OH, COME ON!" shouts Lee Jordan. "What does that have to do with Chambers' playing abilities? Quaffle now sent forward by Goldstein to Davies. Ravenclaw's Captain rolls left to avoid the incoming Bludger from Goyle. Quaffle passed from Davies to Bradley who now speeds down the left flank, passing by Nott. Watch out for the Nimbus speed advantage—Oh! Montague's outflown Bradley to seize possession of the Quaffle as the Slytherins converge on the centre of the pitch..."

Still no hint of gold as Harry decides to stay near the Gryffindor crowd. This helps as they soon warn him of Crabbe trying to sneak a Bludger from behind.

"Watch out, Cho!" yells an older student from the crowd before Harry spins 180 degrees. Indeed, Crabbe comes flying in to smash a Bludger which Harry evades by performing a Sloth Grip Roll. Still hanging upside down (and actually enjoying the feel of Cho's dangling sleek hair) he gestures a middle-finger at Crabbe.

"Not funny!" Slytherin's Beater speeds off in pursuit of the Bludger again, while many Gryffindors jeer and laugh at him.

Once out of the roll, Harry tucks his hair behind his ears, causing quite a few laughs from team Gryffindor's players. Nobody else understands the joke, but they take it as their team still laughing at the angered Crabbe.

"That was some neat flying by Cho to avoid a sneaky shot by Crabbe. If only her Chasers were so lucky but no! Nott and Vaisey double team the Quaffle off Chambers while passing around the incoming Davies. Slytherin now starting their counterattack from their right side, which is Ravenclaw's left. Davies and Chambers move in to the centre while Bradley puts himself in line with Ravenclaw's left hoop. Goyle sends a Bludger... NICE! Deflected by MacDougal before Brocklehurst sends it towards Nott. Unlucky miss there!"

All Harry can do is slam his fist to the broom as Bradley and Davies are outflown by Montague and Vaisey.

"Third goal from Slytherin, and now it's THIRTY-ZERO after nearly fifteen minutes of play. Ravenclaw had better get it together while they still can."

"Cho!" shouts Ginny, though Harry knows that she's realised it's him. "Help your struggling team out there, _girl_! Give them tactics or something since you know Slytherin."

"Cho knows Slytherin?" asks some other Gryffindor. "What's that mean?"

"Uh, well she has played against them plenty of times before, yes," replies Ginny. "Don't let _that_ Slytherin get the best of Ravenclaw."

Nodding, Harry tries to ignore the still-giggling Hermione as he speeds off to approach Davies.

"Looks like Cho's having a word with her Captain," says Lee Jordan, while Harry tries to make sense of what he sees.

"They're cutting in from the flanks, wing-play by exploiting their faster brooms."

"And here I came prepared for them coming through the centre," says Davies, while hovering near Anthony Goldstein. "They're piling too much pressure for our new team though. Bradley and Chambers need more time to adjust, and those Muggleborn chants aren't helping Chambers at all."

Their tactical discussion is interrupted as the Slytherins return for yet another assault. This time, Harry forgoes his Seeker duties in favour of helping his Captain. It's a risky move, but he knows Malfoy well enough to let him search alone for a few minutes.

"Look at Cho go! She's stopped searching for the Snitch and is instead going after the Chasers. Well... alright then, girl."

"I told you to prioritise the Snitch," says Davies. "Don't leave Malfoy uncontested!"

"He won't spot it yet." Harry catches Nott off-guard as he speeds to snatch away the Quaffle.

"THE HELL?"

"So long, loser!" yells Harry to Nott, before rolling around him and speeding off down the right flank. Using a Nimbus 2001 means Slytherin's players are given a run for their money by chasing Harry now.

"That-a-girl, Cho!" shouts Lee Jordan. "Oh, nice, down the right flank she goes. Put that 2001 through its paces, yeah! Whoops, missed that Bludger there, Goyle. Cho flies over a clueless Montague before passing to Chambers in the centre. He shoots... he SCORES! THIRTY-TEN NOW, CHAMBERS WITH RAVENCLAW'S FIRST GOAL OF THE MATCH!"

As Chambers celebrates his effort on target, Harry pats him on the shoulder while passing by. Now it's back to Malfoy where Harry gets a wicked idea.

"..to Davies, nope, intercepted by Vaisey as Slytherin starts their attack. Here comes Zabini as well. Confident, isn't he? Slytherin going in with three Chasers and a Keeper as they look to outnumber their opponents. Crabbe and Goyle joining in as well. Look at that! Six Slytherin players going after one attack as Ravenclaw are left overwhelmed in the middle of the pitch!"

Ravenclaw's supporters groan as Slytherin scores their fourth and fifth goals within ten minutes. Meanwhile, Harry flies to within Malfoy's range before spinning around and starting a dive.

"Hey! Looks like Cho's seen the Snitch already!" yells Lee Jordan, as the crowd now roars with approval, though Harry smiles once Malfoy gives chase. "Down they go, Nimbus 2001 against 2001, level terms for you Malfoy. Come on, work those brooms, Seekers!"

Icy cold wind blasts against Harry's face while he descends at just over 100 miles per hour. Charms and enchantments on these brooms are a quite a blessing, since they resist the effects of such ferocious velocity on the rider. Lee Jordan's commentary, and the thunderous crowd, are replaced by howling wind against Harry's ears while he descends. With his concentration solely on the nearing expanse of grass, everything else seems a passing blur of colours and noise.

"Come on, come on," mutters Harry, who can't even hear himself through the blasting wind chilling his ears. The grassy pitch grows nearer and nearer now whilst he firmly grips the black broom. Mere metres separate Harry from a head-on crash before he pulls up 90 degrees, bringing the broom just about parallel to the pitch. All sound returns in a wave of noise now, including a loud _THUD_ right behind Harry.

"PLOUGHED INTO THE GROUND, WHOOOOA, CHO!" Lee Jordan screams in delight (and Professor McGonagall does absolutely nothing to calm him down). "SOMEONE'S CERTAINLY BEEN PRACTICING HER MOVES! DRACO MALFOY GETS TRICKED AND TAKEN DOWN BY CHO CHANG'S AMAZING WRONSKI FEINT."

By sheer coincidence, Harry finds himself facing the Slytherin crowd that's mostly jeering at him now. But he merely laughs at their protests before standing atop his broom and giving a little dance.

"Stick it to them, Cho, yeah, show 'em who's boss here today. That-a-girl, show 'em you're not losing this unexpected match!"

"YOU SUCK, CHANG, LUCKY MOVE THAT WAS!" yells a group of students, who Harry recalls being against him last year.

"Kiss my arse." He shakes his butt in a surprisingly feminine manner. "Your Mister-Thinks-He's-Perfect is not so perfect after all, huh?"

"Time out!" declares Lee Jordan rather disappointedly. "Captain Nott's calling for a time-out to assess the _owned_ Malfoy. Don't stall too long, folks."

Both teams land upon the ground, though Harry continues looking around for the Snitch. If only he were in active pursuit now, then he wouldn't need to land during the time-out.

"Damn, Cho!" applauds Davies, while the Ravenclaws gather near the centre of the pitch. "That was absolutely NUTS! Where'd you learn how to do that? Why didn't you do it against Cedric in our last match?"

"Um, well..."

"Never mind," says Davies. "Keep looking for that Snitch! We can win this and limit Slytherin's points here today. I can feel it, lads, we're getting it going now."

In the corner of his eye, Harry spots the Slytherins running towards him. Crabbe and Goyle now all but swinging their bats in anger as Nott yells at Davies.

"Let me through, Davies, let me through!"

"Cho's move was legit, idiot, settle down before you lot embarrass yourselves!"

Lee Jordan views the action from his seat and starts laughing over the megaphone. "Oh, not so nice when it's your side getting taken down, eh? Nothing illegal about that move, nope. Now how about we get this game going?"

Although the weather's quite cold out here, Nott and his team sure exhibit fiery tempers as they shove their way past Davies.

"You cowardly bitch!"

"Seriously?" Harry laughs while making a sweeping gesture of dismissal towards Nott. "How's Malfoy doing? Is he going to cry to his father? _Oh, daddy, a girl hurt me badly in Quidditch now I'm a crybaby_."

"Nice one, Cho!" Mandy Brocklehurst bursts out laughing before seeing Crabbe and Goyle approach. "Back off, you apes."

Morag lands to shield Harry from Malfoy's furious lackeys and, soon enough, a little row ensues.

"ENOUGH!" Madam Hooch flies over on her broom to break up the fight. "Goyle, get off Amanda this instant! CRABBE, KEEP YOUR DISTANCE FROM MACDOUGAL."

Malfoy, meanwhile, sits seething on the ground while clutching his badly injured arm. Seizing the opportunity, Harry slips away from the mass of arguments before running towards his rival.

"So tell me, Malfoy, is this your Hippogriff act from years back, again?"

"I can't believe this," mutters the livid blond, "can't believe that Potter's done more than just bought you a broom. So what, have you two met in the Muggle world or something?"

"Oh yes," laughs Harry. "That handsome boy's explained all these fancy flying moves to me when I visited him, shame. Get up and play, you weakling."

"Get stuffed, woman." Malfoy tries to mount his broom but to no avail. "I always figured Potter for a traitor. Should've rather been in Gryffindor like his stupid parents."

It's either righteous anger or heavily contained emotions for Harry now, and he knows the former would blow his cover.

"I'll be sure to tell him what you said, father's boy." Harry looks over his shoulder to see Madam Hooch blowing her whistle as the game continues. "Admit that your team sucks without its true leader, which even a Ravenclaw can see."

"Just you watch what we do in Slytherin's next game, Chang." Malfoy punches the ground before ripping out some grass. "How dare you talk about my father like that! Tell your stupid Head Boyfriend that he'll be up against a Firebolt when the Duffers take us on!"

"What?"

"You heard me, gold-digger Chang! I'm going to ask my father to buy me a Firebolt, and then everyone will know who Slytherin's true Seeker happens to be. Not even Potter can shell out more coin on brooms with the way he's been spending now. Hell, maybe father should get my whole team Firebolts! Nobody messes with the prestigious Malfoy family, bitch."

"You're the bitch, bitch," mutters Harry, while whispering to himself as he walks away. "And nobody messes with the prestigious Black family either, you spoilt prat."

"Looks like Draco Malfoy's throwing some sort of tantrum down there," says a sniggering Lee Jordan. "That's right, Cho, be the better player and walk away. Here we go, let's see... it's currently sixty-twenty with Slytherin in the lead but with a downed Seeker as well."

Although Malfoy's warning is not to be taken lightly, Harry returns his attention this match. Everything just seems so predictable as Crabbe and Goyle now chase after him. But it's hardly any different than when Krum sent Durmstrang's Beaters after Harry as well, except that they were far better players.

"Slytherin's antics on the ground have earned Ravenclaw a penalty. Here goes Davies while Crabbe and Goyle chase after Cho Chang at the rear end of the pitch. Davies shoots... oh SAVED by Zabini to deny the Captain a much-needed goal today."

There's no denying that Zabini's got talent, but Harry would never allow such a git on his team. Meanwhile, Slytherin's Beaters come in hard and fast by whacking a Bludger.

"Quaffle goes from Zabini to Nott, nice dodge from Cho at the back, Nott passes to Montague. Vaisey coming in near the Slytherin posts while Davies and Bradley team up to try and get possession. Chambers comes in on the other side as the action moves to the centre."

"You couldn't score Yule Ball dates, and you sure as hell ain't catching me out here, hahahaha!" Harry spins two full revolutions before rolling past the flabbergasted Beaters. "See you, suckers!"

"... SCORED BY MONTAGUE, AND THAT PUTS SLYTHERIN ON SEVENTY TO RAVENCLAW'S TWENTY!"

"Crap, these Pureblood arseholes are quite effective together," mutters Harry, who swiftly evades a blow from Goyle's bat. "ARE YOU BLOODY MENTAL?"

"OUTRAGEOUS FOUL!" screams Madam Hooch before blowing her whistle. "PENALTY TO RAVENCLAW FOR THAT COWARDLY ATTEMPT, GOYLE."

"Ma'am!" calls Harry. "Please let me take it."

"Penalties are for Chasers, Miss Chang." Madam Hooch narrows her yellow, hawk-like eyes.

"Well, somebody's gotta stand up to this discriminative dirt now that Harry Potter's no longer around. They're going to ruin our beloved game if we don't show them we're not scared."

"Well, there's no outright explicit rule against a Seeker scoring. Just don't blame me if you miss the Snitch or lose out."

"Malfoy's useless at the moment though," says Harry, who enjoys the surprised looks around him now.

"What in the... Cho Chang's taking the penalty? Yeah, stick it to those cheating Slytherins, Cho!" Lee Jordan clearly makes little effort to hide his glee as Harry goes forward from the centre. "It's a _penalty_ , you Slytherins, so nobody can do a thing. Let her through, and hope your Keeper can save it..."

"Not gonna happen," says Harry softly, yet he's still amazed at how comfortable Cho's body feels. "Come on, Zababanini!"

"Think you're funny?" yells Zabini, who puts up a good fight as Harry tries to outsmart him. "Go back to your own country."

"Wha—" Harry swiftly rolls thrice to the right before tossing up the Quaffle and head-butting it through the right hoop.

"STYLISH GOAL BY CHO CHANG! IT'S SEVENTY-THIRTY NOW, FOLKS!"

Harry, meanwhile, spins around and gestures a sly middle finger to the fuming Zabini. "I was born in the U.K., you dumb shit."

"Ha-ha yourself, Chang, look over there." Zabini smirks as Bradley hits the ground, courtesy of Goyle's Bludger.

"Oh damn!" says Lee Jordan. "That shot looked nasty, and now Ravenclaw are also down a player. Here comes Cho to carry on her search for the Snitch while Zabini gets the play going once again."

Slytherin definitely makes good use of Ravenclaw's injury as they move the Quaffle forward. Judging by the groans and frustration coming from Ravenclaw's supporters, Harry knows that it's up to him to get any reasonable amount of points today. While Nott, Montague and Vaisey pass their way through Davies and Chambers, Harry flies near the Slytherin stands. Lee Jordan remains shouting over the megaphone as Goldstein blocks two attempts on goal before finally being caught for Slytherin's eighth.

_"MAKE SOME NOISE FOR OUR PUREBLOOD BOYS."_

"Are you friggen kidding me?" Harry pauses to glance at the applauding portion of Slytherin. Meanwhile, some of their peers can be seen telling them to 'shut up', although nothing physical breaks loose in the stands.

"Let's ignore that rhyme and focus on the match," says Lee Jordan, raising his voice over the growing chants as Slytherin nearly scores their ninth goal. "That was a great save from Goldstein to deny Vaisey a goal. Ravenclaw's Keeper seems to be giving orders to Brocklehurst and MacDougal as they look to make up for their injured Chaser."

But with Slytherin easily bypassing the two Ravenclaw Chasers, Harry's forced to briefly fortify Davies and Chambers now.

"Forget us, damnit!" shouts Davies. "It's Slytherin's first match as well, since their Gryffindor one got called off. Hufflepuff's on 250, so if we win now it'll still be a fixable gap."

"Don't be a fool, Davies—"

"I'm the Captain, not you, Cho. Now go look for that Snitch!"

Sighing, Harry breaks away from the pair of Chasers as he ascends to search the skies. Cheers, chants, and Lee Jordan's commentary grow quieter by the second as Harry speeds high above the stadium. Chilly winds blast against his face while he searches for a glimmer of gold amongst the darkened clouds.

Then, by quite a bit of luck, Harry finally spots the Golden Snitch zigzagging a fair distance away. It swiftly reacts to his pursuit by speeding through the expanse of grey.

"Come here, little Snitch," calls Harry. "There's no dementors around to distract today's cloudy match. Come here!"

Although he wonders how Ravenclaw might be coping down below, Harry now sets his sights on catching the elusive Snitch. He deftly follows its flight path through icy cold, wet clouds before it turns right, and soon it descends towards the vibrant stadium. With the wind settling down a bit, and the air already so thin, Harry overhears some of the commentary while exiting the clouds.

"...SCORED by Bradley who makes it 100-40, but it's still in favour of team Slytherin today. OH, HERE COMES CHO CHANG IN PURSUIT OF THE SNITCH! MALFOY'S STILL TRYING TO RECOVER WHICH LEAVES LITTLE IN THE WAY OF RAVENCLAW'S SEEKER."

Malfoy may be out, but his bodyguards forgo marking Ravenclaw's Chasers in favour of targeting the incoming Harry. Nearly the entire stadium cheers with applause as Harry re-enters the stadium at a gradual angle. Meanwhile, the Snitch swerves between various players who do all they can to avoid committing a Snitchnip foul here. But Slytherin's Beaters move in closer than expected, and Harry's forced to dodge Crabbe and roll around Goyle before even Nott tries to get in the way.

"Move, bitch! Out of my way," says Harry through clenched teeth, as Nott turns to stop in his path.

"THEODORE NOTT, IF YOU DON'T MOVE ASIDE THEN I'LL TAKE THIS AS A BLATCHING FOUL," warns Madam Hooch nearby. "THREE SECONDS, THAT'S ALL I'M GIVING YOU TO GET OUT THE WAY BEFORE I AWARD RAVENCLAW A PENALTY. ONE..."

Nott remains parked between Harry and the distant Snitch as he glares at Ravenclaw's Seeker. Neither player shows a hint of hesitation, with the latter even speeding up a slight bit.

"TWO!"

The crowd gasps at the stubborn pair refusing to yield, though Nott's committing the infraction here. Even Lee Jordan urges him to move aside as Harry's coming in at just under 80 miles per hour at this now 30 degree dive.

"THREE! FOUL AGAINST SLYTHERIN!"

Everything passes by in a blur of colour as Harry collides face first with Nott's shoulder, sending them flying for about a 10 foot fall onto their sides. Both teams now converge on their players but it seems they're relatively fine. All that's noticed is Nott's painful arm, and Harry's heavily bruised right cheek. Since the glimmer of gold remains within view, Harry ignores Davies before mounting his broom yet again.

"CHO'S ON IT NOW! LOOK AT HER SHAKE THAT FALL OFF LIKE IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER! MAN, SHE'S UNBELIEVABLY AGGRESSIVE HERE TODAY," says Lee Jordan, as the match continues with Chambers scoring his penalty. "And it's now 100-50 as Ravenclaw mount their comeback, COME ON!"


	11. A Meeting of Slytherins

Whatever hope Harry's had for his team moments ago appears to be dwindling. Now Roger Davies finds himself on the brunt of an enraged Slytherin assault as they continue to commit six players to each attack.

"If Ravenclaw can just get the Quaffle into their opponent's half, it'd be easy with Zabini away from his posts," says Lee Jordan. "But they're getting absolutely HAMMERED now, probably as Slytherin's making up for their downed Seeker."

110, 120, The goals come flying in while Harry speeds off in pursuit of the Golden Snitch, now flying near the Ravenclaw stands. With Harry speeding on its flight path, the Snitch twirls before turning around and diving to the ground. Meanwhile, he knows he's been acting out of character for Cho thus far, and therefore decides against pulling off what would be a tricky dive. Instead, Harry flies ahead while predicting where the Snitch might pull up to his level.

"Cho's unwilling to take that dive and opts to try and outsmart the Snitch instead," says Lee Jordan. "Looks like her risk paid off, she's coming up behind the Snitch as it nears the centre of the pitch. WATCH OUT, CHO, THERE'S A TON OF ACTION HAPPENING THERE RIGHT NOW!"

Both teams have committed six players each to gain possession as a dozen players battle for the Quaffle. Four Beaters whack Bludgers in all directions while the Chasers get in full-contact to seize possession from their opponents. Even the Keepers form up with their three teammates to bolster these efforts. Just as Harry swerves around the action, Crabbe and Goyle speed towards him with their bats in hand.

"Stop Chang right now!" orders Nott, who's clearly upset that Malfoy's unable to continue.

"Mandy and Morag, form up!" Davies sends his Beaters to intercept the Slytherin pair, but Harry's got his own plan. First comes Goyle who Harry ducks beneath, then he rolls around Crabbe followed by kicking Nott away before speeding off in pursuit of 150 more points.

"Tremendous bit of flying from Cho as she outwits her opponents!" cheers Lee Jordan. "The Eagles' Seeker makes her way towards the far right side of the pitch where the Snitch takes a climb..."

"DON'T LET THAT BITCH CATCH THE SNITCH!" yells Vaisey, who spots the Snitch flying parallel to the ground before climbing straight up, in an 'L' shape. Once Slytherin's Chasers slip past Goldstein in the centre, they exploit their faster brooms as Montague makes a beeline to the left hoop.

"GOAL BY MONTAGUE WHICH MAKES IT 130-50—"

Harry flies diagonally to gain an advantage on the Snitch's 'L' climb, then he reaches out... so close...

"—CHO'S GOING... GOING... YES! SHE'S CAUGHT IT! CHO CHANG HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH FOR RAVENCLAW. 200-130 WE CERTAINLY ARE INDEED! TAKE THAT, YOU RESCHEDULING SONS OF B—"

"That's enough, Jordan." Professor McGonagall 'politely' turns off the megaphone while the stadium erupts into thunderous cheers. Whatever half of Slytherin might've been applauding their team are now drowned out by the noise of everyone else.

Eventually, the megaphone is switched back on for Lee Jordan to announce the standings thus far:

"Hufflepuff are currently leading on 250, followed by Ravenclaw on 200, and Slytherin's on... 130, hahaha! Anyway, Ravenclaw's at the biggest disadvantage since they've only got one game left. Slytherin and Hufflepuff have two in hand while Gryffindor have yet to complete our first match. When is the next match anyway?" Lee Jordan can be heard checking through some parchments. "Oh yeah, Saturday the 7th of December it'll be Gryffindor against Hufflepuff. Man, the timetable's really off this year..."

Even with most of the stadium engulfed in tremendous applause and congratulations, Harry simply lands to get freshened up in the locker room. Sickening joy fills him upon having beaten his own House at Quidditch, and he now tries to shower as quickly as possible. In fact, the only distraction he gets from ruing his role in Slytherin's loss is how 'unique' it feels to be showering in this body.

"You'd better make it quick," says a hushed voice nearby. "God, this is EMBARRASSING!"

"Cho?" Harry's eyes widen as he remembers her having spent the match hidden beneath his Cloak here. "You're very sexy, you know? Look at this body..."

She groans quite loudly now while standing somewhere near the shower's entrance. "Get dressed and stop ogling my privates, for Heaven's sake! Oh, I'm never gonna be able to live this one down."

"I like these very much—"

Cho throws off the Cloak before glaring at Harry now. "So go play with Hermione's, Parkinson's, or Ginny's. Don't touch... no!"

"Just kidding." Harry grins before finishing up in the shower and getting dressed back into Cho's uniform. "At least you can say that you saw me naked, huh?"

"You mean I saw myself naked now, nothing new there. Goodness, look at your face..."

While Cho inspects Harry's bruised cheek, he laughs. " _Your_  face, you mean."

She throws the Cloak over herself once more while speaking. "I suggest we return to the Room immediately. That game lasted almost two hours now, not to mention the time used before you went for breakfast."

Harry scoffs while looking quite proud of himself. "Given my brass cauldron, and good brewing skills, these doses tend to last longer than that. I give it until 2pm or so, yeah."

"What about that bruise on your face? It looks terrible," says Cho.

"From what I've read, it's only Dark magic injuries that stay through Polyjuice Potion, I think. This'll disappear when I turn back to the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Yes, but everyone's expecting me to have a bruise until it's treated by Madam Pomfrey," replies Cho. "Maybe we should go there right now while there's still time."

"Ah, good ol' Ravenclaw smarts on display, Miss Chang." Harry gives a soft bit of clapping that has Cho giggling. They now swiftly exit the stadium together before Harry seeks treatment in the Hospital Wing. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey seems completely oblivious to Harry's impersonation as she heals the bruise in about a minute.

"I'll let you take over from here on out," whispers Harry to the invisible Cho, as they walk down the fifth floor corridor. He also informs her of Pansy and the girls' suspicions which hardly bothers Cho.

"Guess I'll have to explain it to them in private if we meet," she replies. "Let them know that ours was a once-off change. Do you think I can tell them about the Room of Requirement?"

"Not yet," says Harry, while keeping an eye out for anyone nearby. "If they ask where I'm hiding out, and how I'm brewing Polyjuice, just say that it's my secret. Shall we swap now? Nobody's gonna think anything of you being in different clothes so soon." He looks around before Cho takes off the Invisibility Cloak. "Isn't your common room entrance somewhere on the fifth floor level anyway?"

"Yes, but you'll need to solve a riddle to get in."

"I'd prefer to kill, rather than solve, a Riddle."

Cho looks bemused at Harry's statement. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind, I'll take that now." Harry wraps the Cloak around him before laughing. "Enjoy being the hero of today, sexy Chang. And please let the Gryffindor team and my girls know that it's actually you  _before_  you go and get mushy with Cedric. Oh, and D.A. meeting tonight as we haven't had one all week."

"Thank you for the broom and points today, Harry, very much appreciated," says a smiling Cho, who walks towards the grand staircase where both students head their separate ways.

With his stomach grumbling a fair bit, Harry makes haste to the Room of Requirement where Dobby sets him up with lunch. It amazes Harry how the elf simply never tires of serving him. In fact, Dobby seems most cheerful when he's called upon quite often, such as today for both Cho and Harry's meals.

Once finished with lunch, Harry returns to his room to wait out his reversion while studying. Every so often, he checks the nearby mirror while seated at his desk until his eyes begin to change. From Cho's brown to Harry's green, he notes how the first change usually tends to be his eyes. By late afternoon, a non-Polyjuiced Harry sits on a couch in casual wear after having practiced spells in the main area. He soon finds himself joined by the Gryffindor team who let loose on today's change.

"So, how did it feel to lose your manhood for a few hours?" asks Angelina, while her teammates roar with laughter.

"I'll bet a Galleon that he took a feel of Cho," adds Katie. "Did you, Harry?"

"Uh... well..."

"Guilty as charged!" Hermione tries to look upset but battles through her nonstop laughter. "I can't believe how far you'd go to stop this team Slytherin..."

"What did it feel like between the legs, huh?" asks Alicia. "Hahaha! Now you know what's it like to be one of us."

The twins and Ron remain in shock while trying to crack a few jokes. Mainly they're still surprised at Harry's determination to thwart a team led by those Slytherins.

"Okay, alright, enough, joke's old now," says Harry.

"Old?" Fred and George look at each other and laugh. "Neveeeeeer."

"Do you have any Polyjuice left?" asks Ginny, while standing behind Harry as he leans back on the couch.

"No, not until the 19th, why?" He looks up to see Ginny sighing.

"Oh well, guess you're trapped in here until then. Unless you use the Cloak, shame that you're a now hermit again."

"D.A. meeting tonight? What say you all?" asks Harry.

"Oh yes, definitely!" Ron beams with a smile while Hermione appears rather worried.

"But there's tons of homework to finish over the weekend."

Ron looks at her and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but we don't have Prefect duties either tonight. Do you want practical experience or not? I know you're a good witch, Hermione, good enough to delay that work just a bit."

"Yes." Harry stands up from the couch before walking towards Hermione sitting against the wall. "You can stay behind afterwards and work in here. I know I'm probably useless with some of that but—"

"You're not useless, Harry."

"—so it's a 'yes' then? Cool, see you all tonight." Harry draws his wand as the rest of the students file out to spend their afternoon elsewhere.

Practicing by oneself may not be the most effective method of improving one's duelling skills, but Harry refuses to be a burden. He'd rather read through various spellbooks over and over than request a duelling partner on a Saturday afternoon.

" _Expelliarmus_!" He fires a disarming charm at the practice dummy (which holds a book in one hand). Sure enough, the book comes flying through the air for Harry to catch, much like an opponent's wand might do.

Next, he returns the book before trying the same spell non-verbally. This time it's about half as effective as its verbal counterpart, but Harry smiles nonetheless.

"Time for some style." He now attempts to cast non-verbally and using a technique which Muggles might call 'Point Shooting'. But it's certainly a challenge to focus on the spell, get the correct wand movements, and fire with minimal time to take aim.

For his first effort, Harry intends to strike a book on the shelf to his right. He therefore concentrates before turning and swiftly firing the disarming charm, only to end up smacked in the face by the incoming book.

"Ouch, too slow."

Regardless of how tedious and difficult it may be, Harry continues practicing non-verbal spells for well over an hour in the afternoon. Some simply refuse to be effective non-verbally while others, such as the disarming charm, do improve a slight bit. With the sun beginning to set at around half past four, this leaves Harry to have dinner nearly alone in the Room of Requirement.

"Thanks again, Dobby."

"A pleasure, Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry eventually checks his watch to see that it's almost six o'clock as he awaits the rest of Dumbledore's Army. Minutes later, the door opens while he grips his wand, wrapping his little finger around its rear hook end.

"Hello, Harry, nice to see you again."

"Oh hey, Miss Lovegood, where are the others?"

"Taking their usual time, since it's unwise for us all to flock up here together. We come in dispersed little groups, you see."

Sure enough, more D.A. members of various Houses gradually trickle into the room. By the time they're nearly all here, Harry sees Cedric entering with a most unexpected face.

"Oh crap, we've been betrayed!" shouts Dean Thomas, as the Head Boy looks at Harry.

"Hey, thought I might bring someone along. She's trustworthy."

"Harry? Oh my gosh, look at you..."

"A Slytherin?" asks Harry in utmost delight. "One of my people has finally arrived!"

"And the Head Girl, no less," says Hermione. "Sign this piece of parchment please, Yasmin, and try not to betray our group, alright?"

"Nah, she's cool," says Harry, while watching the older Slytherin sign the jinxed parchment. But in the meantime, his eyes briefly dart to Cho's miserable friend. "Problem?"

"She's not feeling too well," says Cho, while Marietta eyes Yasmin.

"Can we really trust a Slytherin?" asks Marietta. "Dolores Umbridge was a Slytherin back in her day."

"And so am I." Harry quietens the group before walking up to Marietta. "If you have a problem being here then perhaps you should leave."

"No," says Hermione. "She's part of our group and is here to stay."

"I don't see what's the big deal with _Slytherin_ anyway." Marietta gestures towards her friend. "Cho pretty much made your 'superior' House look stupid today."

"Oh yes," says Harry, while smiling at Cho. "That was a spectacular performance out there this morning. Reminds me of myself in a way."

Cho tries not to giggle while shaking Harry's hand. "Thanks."

"Are you alright, Harry?" asks Yasmin. "With everything that's happened, you know, Azkaban and all that stuff... everyone's worried over you. Well, whoever's not on Malfoy's side these days. It's just not the same anymore without you around Slytherin."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

The rest of the group eagerly listen as Harry and Yasmin briefly discuss what's happening in Slytherin.

"A House divided, eh?" asks Hermione. "So it's those who believe in Harry, and then there's everyone else? Slytherin cannot stand if it's divided against itself."

"Hey, this isn't supposed to be public knowledge, Granger." Yasmin scowls a slight bit at practically everyone gathered around. "Although I reckon it's pretty obvious these days. Malfoy, Nott, and whoever else seem to encourage the crap people are chanting and doing. I'm sorry about your Muggleborn teammate, Cho, for what he's heard out there today."

"Just who exactly are the ones against me?" asks Harry, before Yasmin looks to the ceiling in concentration.

"Most of my seventh-year classmates are with the Ministry's views. Then there's about half the sixth years as well. So that's nearly twenty students between those two years already. Your fifth-year girls, even Pansy, aren't doing anything much. I suspect they don't like Malfoy and Nott."

"But Pansy Parkinson's mum is a Death Eater, and everyone around here knows that," says Susan Bones, who now turns to look at Harry. "I wouldn't trust her if I were you, even if she was your old friend."

"I'm inclined to agree with Bones," says Marietta, though Harry ignores her.

"Who else?"

Yasmin frowns once again. "The five fifth-year boys are obviously pro-Ministry and anti-Harry. So that's Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Malfoy, and Zabini added to the list of your haters. Most of the fourth-years, but only some of the second and third, are also with them. The poor firsties are more confused than anything this year, since your haters are trying to make you look bad." Yasmin now smiles. "So we can say that just over half the House still likes you, Harry. That includes me, Flint's sister, Adrian, Miles Bletchley etc."

"You see," says Ginny. "This is why I like Gryffindor. There's just way too much politics going on in the dungeons."

"I don't see every Gryffindor standing here now, do I? Where's Malone and Finnigan?" Harry's retort elicits an awkward bit of silence, most noticeably from Dean.

"Roger's got his own stuff to deal with now. As for Seamus... he, uh, believes the  _Daily Prophet_  like his mum insists. Please don't hate on him."

"Well," says Harry. "Perhaps he'll come good after another explosion to the face in Potions class."

"Harry!"

"Sorry, Hermione, was just a joke."

Once Harry's brief reunion with a fellow Slytherin concludes, the meeting finally gets underway. Today's agenda comprises the Leg-Locker, Full Body-Bind, and Reductor Curses.

"For the first two," says Harry (who spots the admiring look sent his way by Hermione as he speaks), "you'll be practicing on each other. The Reductor Curse, however, is meant for solid objects like these practice dummies. It won't do much, if anything, on a living target so let's not waste our time like that. Real life consists of surprises. Therefore, we'll be splitting up alphabetically. It doesn't matter if you don't know your partner that much, because you sure as hell won't always know the enemy out there..."

He now begins pairing up students according to the sign-up list.

"...Hannah and Lavender, pair up. Katie and Susan... Terry and Cho... Creevey brothers, well, work hard!"

Colin and Dennis nod most enthusiastically while Harry continues pairing the rest up.

"I know there'll be siblings together but let's be fair, alright? I said I'm going alphabetically and that's what we're sticking with. Next, Cedric with Marietta... Justin with Anthony... Hermione with Angelina... Lee with Neville... Luna with Ernie... Patils, you're together."

"Thank you, Harry," they reply simultaneously.

"No games, understand? I'm just following this list." Harry resumes pairing the students up while pacing up and down the room. "Yasmin, you're with me."

"Setting the standard on my first meeting, eh? Fine then." She now smiles brightly. "But I'm a seventh-year and Head Girl, so you'd better watch out."

"Anyway... Zacharias with Alicia, Dean with Fred..."

George laughs. "Fred, we might've been together if that Slytherin Shafiq didn't show up. Whoa, relax there, Head Girl, we're only joking."

"Carry on, Harry," says Yasmin, who folds her arms and scoffs.

"George with Ginny..."

"YES!" Ginny already draws her wand and takes aim at her older brother. "I've been waiting for this for years now! Mum and dad ain't here to stop anything we do, George."

"Bring it on." George grins at Harry before looking at the focused Ginny. " _Little Miss Weasley._ "

Meanwhile, Harry continues pairing the remaining students up, though he can't help but feel bad for Yasmin Shafiq. If not for her surname on this list, the Weasley twins would've been together while Ginny would've been with Ron. At the same time, Harry knows he would've then gotten Zacharias Smith instead of Yasmin, and he'd have certainly enjoyed hexing that condescending Hufflepuff.

"Ronald with... oh." Harry doesn't know whether to laugh or take pity as there's nobody else following Ron's name.

"Nobody left, eh?  _Typical_ ," says Ron.

"That's what we Slytherins do," says Yasmin. "Come in and mess things up, hahaha! Don't look so glum, Weasley. Hmmm... Harry, close your eyes and blindly select someone on that list. Wherever your finger lands will be the pair that Weasley joins."

"Call him by his first name," says Harry, "or you'll confuse everyone here." He now (almost) shuts his eyes while running a finger up and down the parchment before pressing against it. "I see... ah, lucky you, Ronald!"

"Who'd I get?"

"The Patils."

"Bloody hell!"

"Well, Ron," says Parvati. "Let's see if you're as good with your wand as you danced with Fay at the Yule Ball. Or if you're lucky enough like against McLaggen at the hoops."

As Ron struts over to the twins, Yasmin whispers while walking past Harry. "You did that on purpose, right?"

"Was I that obvious?"

"Nope, nobody but Granger suspects a thing." Yasmin now smiles. "But I know you well enough already. So, let's get started, little fellow Slytherin."

_Locomotor Mortis_  is the incantation yelled by many students taking aim at their partners. Various shades of purple soon flash across the room while laughter and groans echo through the pairs of students.

"Anyone seriously hurt? No?" A leg-locked Harry lays on the ground while surveying the aftermath of the first round. "Don't forget the wand movements: down, left, down, right. Practice those movements again. Hermione,  please remind us of the counterspell..."

She giggles before walking over to perform the required spell. With his legs freed, Harry smiles before seeing a few other students casting the counterspell too, namely Cedric and Yasmin.

"Don't you agree," says Marietta to the crowd, "that our teacher's supposed to know everything he's teaching us?"

"Nobody's perfect so give him a break," says Cedric, as Harry has the eager students practicing for the next twenty minutes. Out of five rounds, Harry manages to hit Yasmin twice before she gets him. Their conversation soon turning to the Quidditch team as everyone continues their practice.

"I can't believe Nott and the lot would kick you, Adrian and Bletchley out. We all saw how great you guys did in January against Gryffindor," says Harry.

"Yeah, well, I'm done arguing for a place on the team. Even after Chang humiliated them they still refuse to change this line-up. Sure, they got a good amount of goals in but it's the final result that matters." Yasmin gives a slight laugh before raising her wand for the next round of leg-locker practice. "Let 'em have the team, we no longer care."

Following this, Harry moves on to their next curse.

"So, it's really curses all evening long?" asks Smith. "I thought we're learning to  _defend_ ourselves against the bad stuff out there?"

"Keep complaining and I might be tempted to practice the Cruciatus Curse on you." Harry grins as Hermione gasps at him. "Right, shall we move on?"

More nods and agreement come from many a student who  begin casting  _Petrificus Totalus_  at one another. At some point, Hermione gets hit by a stray curse which catches her off-guard from another pair. After receiving the counterspell by Angelina, Hermione looks wildly around.

"Who the—?"

Lee Jordan pats Neville on the shoulder before laughing. "Good shot! What was that story you were telling us about the time you tried to stop her and Ron from joining Harry somewhere?"

"I DID IT!" shouts Neville triumphantly. "I got you back for first-year, Hermione."

"Oh ha-ha very funny."

"Great shot, Neville," says Harry, who sees the look of betrayal on Hermione's face. "Excellent, if I may so myself."

"Angelina..." Hermione looks at her partner, who in turn looks at Yasmin as the older girls nod.

"Captain Johnson," says Yasmin. "The Chaser who I so expertly outwitted last year, shall we now pair up?"

"Alright then,  _Slytherin_."

Harry looks, wide-eyed, from Hermione to Angelina to Yasmin. "Wait, what's going on? Why are we all switching partners?"

"We can switch?" asks Lavender. "Hannah, you're a cool girl but I'd like to have my Parvati back, please?"

"Alright, sure, and I'd like Susan back as well."

Sighing, Harry allows the students to shuffle and pick their partners for the next few rounds of Full Body-Bind practice. Meanwhile, he spots Hermione slowly advancing towards him.

She now beckons him over with a curling gesture of her index finger. "Come here, Harry James Potter, I won't bite..."

"Uh." Harry raises his voice to address the crowd. "Anybody wanna take Hermione and swap with me? Anyone?"

"Nope, sorry," laughs Fred, who's paired up with George. "She's eyeing you like a piece of meat now."

"Good luck, Harry," says Parvati, while pairing up with Lavender and Ron. "I know that look from a girl."

"Neville? Would you like to swap with me?"

"Sorry, Harry, but Hermione looks angry... I think." Neville backs off to practice with Luna as Hermione rubs her palms together.

"So, uh, what's the deal, Hermione?" asks Harry. "You look, um, quite flushed."

"Siding with Neville Longbottom over me, huh?" She takes aim at Harry. "Think my misfortunes are funny at times?  _Petrificus Totalus_!"

" _Protego_! Ha, you can't get me."

"We're supposed to let each other get hit. That's part of checking if the spell's right."

"You can't get me, you can't get me," sings Harry, while flashing his brows at the flushed Hermione.

"Argh! Come here,  _Petrificus Totalus_! Stand still and drop your shield already, HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

To everyone's amusement, Harry flees across the room while Hermione gives chase. Each time she casts the curse, Harry either evades or blocks the spell before finally having it rebound back on her. Now he kneels beside the petrified girl and immediately loses his smile.

"At least this time it's easily reversible. No Mandrakes needed."

Hermione sits up after Harry performs the required counterspell, before the latter softly speaks.

"Sorry I, well, suppose that was quite immature of me." Harry stands up while walking towards the rear wall of the room. His thoughts now on how close he'd been to losing his first friend back in second year. "No shields and running, go ahead and hit me."

" _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Harry hits the ground with a thud as he now stares up at the ceiling, motionless.

"Right," says Hermione, "next up is the Reductor Curse which works to blast solid objects—"

"Oi," calls Ron. "Did you forget something, or someone?"

"—so it's not useful against people, really. Just like it's most likely foolish to try a torture curse on an inanimate object, so is trying _Reducto_  on living beings—"

"Hermione," laughs Terry Boot. "I think you ought to un-petrify Harry over there."

"She's clearly doing this on purpose," says Anthony Goldstein. "Quite amusing, actually."

Cho covers her mouth while shaking her head. "Poor Harry, someone help him up already."

"Nah, let's leave him just there." Fred and George soon start laughing with Lee Jordan.

"—so, shall we remain in pairs? Let's get started on the Reductor Curse, there's still over half an hour left."

While the rest of the group stands facing the near-dozen practice dummies, Hermione walks to stand over Harry. For the latter, it's quite a view as he just about darts his gaze up her skirt.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Mister Potter?" She places her arms on her sides while smirking. "Maybe I should just leave you here, hmm? What? No response? Where's that smart mouth of yours now?" However, she does eventually perform the counterspell before pulling Harry to his feet.

"That was a lovely view up your skirt, Miss Granger. Pink knickers suit you just fine."

"You...  _pervert_!"

"Haha, I love you too." He puts on a smile that pushes his cheeks well up to his eyes. "For someone that's so bushy on the head, you're squeaky clean down ther—"

_" _REDUCTO_!"_

Harry's whispering is interrupted by a loud  _BANG_  metres behind him. Upon spinning around in shock, he sees Parvati giggling with her group at the remains of a table which had held many Sneakoscopes.

"Whoa, Parvati," says Harry. "Did you just annihilate that table to ash?"

"You bet I did." She high-fives Lavender and Ron. "How about that, Hermione Granger?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione tightens her lips while eyeing Parvati. "Is that a challenge?"

"Blimey, I think it is." Ron grins while looking from Lavender to Parvati.

"Harry, are you just going to stand there?" asks Hermione, while tugging on his arm.

"Nobody but me challenges my Mugglebabe." Harry stands beside Hermione as they take on Ron and Parvati.

"How'd she do such a wicked Reductor Curse?" asks Ginny, who kicks at the ash. Meanwhile, the two pairs go head-to-head casting  _Reducto_  on practice dummies.

Standing beside Cho to the left of the room is a groaning Marietta. "Why are they acting like damn children?"

"They're just having fun," replies Cho, as Harry applauds Hermione's destruction of a dummy.

" _Reparo_! That's my Granger danger. Bring it on, Miss Gryffindor Patil." Harry whistles as Parvati soon blasts her dummy to a smear on the wall.

"Well done, sis!"

"Quiet, Miss Ravenclaw Patil," says Harry. " _Reducto_!" The repaired dummy bursts into bits on the ground. "That is how we do it in Slytherin."

"You tell 'em!" cheers Yasmin, while clapping in delight.

Cedric soon steps in to cast a pretty effective Reductor Curse too, eliciting many Hufflepuff cheers before Cho steps forward.

"I can do that too, you know. For Ravenclaw,  _Reducto_!"

Another obliterated dummy lands upon the ground as the crowd cheers each one of the contestants on. Hermione now smiles at Harry who knows exactly what she's thinking, even without being a Legilimens himself.

"It's nice to have some unity, eh, Gryffindor Granger?"

"Definitely! I wish it was always like this, Slytherin Snake."

"There'll forever be an element of rivalry in this school which I don't mind." Harry frowns while looking down. "It's just when they take things too far that I  _do_ mind. The anti-Muggleborn stuff, for example."

More students of various Houses soon step up to show their worth in casting tonight's third curse. Each time a dummy gets smashed, Harry and Hermione cast  _Reparo_  while giving a bit of applause. Then, after having finished their Reductor Curse session, the group is made to revise the first two curses yet again.

"Time's up!" declares Harry eventually, much to the disappointment of the group. "I know we've had a blast—quite literally—tonight, but it's already half past eight."

"Yeah," says Cedric. "Makes sense to leave before Mr. Filch spots so many people coming from the seventh floor near curfew. This evening was really great, Harry."

"And Hermione," says Harry, who smiles as she pokes him in the side.

Cedric and Yasmin soon take charge in having the group exit in smaller clusters to avoid suspicion.

"Shall we walk together to the fifth floor,  _Quidditch star_?" asks Cedric to Cho, while wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Yep, lead the way, Head Boyfriend."

Shortly after most of Dumbledore's Army disperses, Yasmin approaches Harry and Hermione near the couch.

"Well, I have to say that you two certainly have the makings of Head Boy and Girl." She looks from the beaming Hermione to Harry now. "Before I head back, I just want to repeat that not everyone in the dungeons hates you. But please understand that many are trying to keep a low profile now that you're officially 'gone', if you know what I mean."

"Be careful who you mention this meeting to," says Hermione. "Actually, don't even mention it at all."

"Pansy knows I'm here though," admits Harry, before explaining the hints he's given her. "And the other four as well."

His statement has Hermione swiftly glaring at him. "What? Why would you blow your cover so early?"

"Sometimes I forget that Pansy's mum is actually a Death Eater," says Yasmin, "Especially by how much she defends your name against Malfoy and Nott's insults. Your friendly Parkinson  _really_  misses you, Harry, and from what I've observed she doesn't hold anything against you for her cousin's death."

"It wasn't a simple death." Harry balls his fist tightly while looking at the Head Girl. "That was bloody ruthless murder, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it. We fought so hard to briefly shake off Voldemort and his zealous follower, nearly got back to that portkey Cup, but then..."

"Harry, that's enough." Hermione now reaches out to hold his hand before looking at the Head Girl. "Don't let him relive that horrible experience, please."

"I understand," says Yasmin softly, before turning to leave. "Perhaps it's best if I don't mention seeing you to anyone, including Pansy. Just be warned that I've already been approached by Theodore Nott."

"About what?" asks Harry.

"Umbridge has got plans for what she calls the  _Inquisitorial Squad_ , top-secret stuff for now. The plan is to recruit 'worthy' Slytherins to form a group that'll be like Prefects 2.0, even able to punish and dock points as they please from anyone."

Harry immediately starts laughing. "I didn't know the finer details but Malfoy already slipped about that. Well, he slipped about some 'squad' thing when coming across Ronald and Hermione in a corridor. Bet he reckons they forgot all about his nonsense."

"Idiot," scoffs Yasmin. "I wish you were around to be Prefect, Harry, and not that father's boy."

While Hermione gifts Yasmin with a fake Galleon that she explains, Harry smiles. "See if you can convince Pansy and the girls to get onto the Inquisitorial Squad. That'll give me a bit of an advantage against Miss High Inquisitor herself."

"They're favouring Purebloods so your Millicent and Tracey pals have less of a chance than the other three. Plus..." Yasmin now shakes her head while pocketing the coin and looking at Harry. "Nott's still got the hots for Pansy, no doubt he'll want her close by."

"Who can blame him?" asks Harry. "Pansy's really pretty, but Nott's seeing her more for her blood status. I suppose the looks are just a bonus in his opinion."

"Disgusting cockroach that he is," mutters Hermione. "Even I'll agree that you're a better match for Parkinson than Draco Malfoy or Theodore Nott could ever be. With their attitudes, those two should just marry each other and get lost."

Yasmin laughs before exiting the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone as the latter prepares to work on her assignments. But after just ten minutes of sitting beside her on the couch, Harry stands up.

"What's wrong?"

"I'd rather not be a distraction to you, Hermione."

"Don't be silly. Sit down and read as I write, you're not distracting me at all." She looks up as he begins walking towards his room's concealed entrance. "Harry, you really need to keep up as much as possible, or else it'd be an impossible task once you're enrolled again. Where are you going, anyway?"

"I need to chat with someone."

"Seriously?" Hermione smiles a slight bit. "Are you so lonely that you're, what, seeking out ghosts at night for social interaction? I hope you're not speaking with Nearly Headless Nick, because you don't really know him too well. He'd be over-delighted to chat with you and might accidentally let it slip that you're around."

"Ghosts are the last people I'd chat with now. They're loud, easily seen, and would certainly compromise my hiding," says Harry. "Plus, who the heck can I chat with anyway? Your House ghost is way too talkative, the Bloody Baron might also let slip that I'm around, and the Fat Friar is...well... I dunno. He's just far too darn happy and all over the place."

"The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw doesn't talk to anyone," says Hermione. "You'd be wasting your time there."

"Yeah, well, I think she's hot."

"Oh my God," sighs a face-palming Hermione. "Keep yourself under control, she's  _dead_."

"Just kidding, relax, although I do feel sorry for how she's sad all day. Anyway, for your information, Muggle wuggle, I'm headed to Professor Snape."

"Tell me you're joking."

"Nope, not at all." Harry enters his room before stepping out with his Invisibility Cloak in hand. "Need to apologize for this morning's events."

"And you're just going to waltz up to him while he's patrolling a corridor or two? Great idea."

"Come on, don't be like that." Harry throws the Cloak over himself while heading for the Room of Requirement's exit. "I may be expelled but Severus Snape is still my Head of House."

While traversing the seventh floor corridor, Harry checks the Marauder's Map which shows Snape on the fifth floor. He therefore makes haste to eventually catch up with the Potions master, near the clock tower's interior. As usual, Snape's robes billow out slightly (in a rather bat-like manner) while he walks through a light breeze. Now Harry deliberately knocks into a suit of armour in the darkened corridor, causing Snape to spin around with wand at the ready.

"Who's there? Show yourself this instant."

"One boy under an Invisibility Cloak looking to speak with you, sir."

"You!" Snape swiftly approaches to grab Harry's Cloak before leading them to the nearest empty classroom available, where it's taken off. "Do you take me for a fool? I could tell that was you this morning, _Miss_ Potter."

"Very funny, sir, but I think we both know what's going on with Slytherin these days. Can't you stamp out the anti-Muggleborn stuff before it escalates to 'Mudblood', ouch!"

After smacking Harry's head, Snape swiftly pulls up his left sleeve. "Look, and use what's left of your brain after Azkaban."

"Dark Mark, Dark Lord, of course, sorry." Harry sighs and straightens up before speaking again. "This hurts me as much as it hurts you, sir, I'd never wish for us to lose our Cup-winning streak. But neither do I want everyone worshipping their 'oh-so-perfect' Pureblood discriminative team."

"Leave them be then, you've got other pressing issues at hand."

"I've got Muggleborn friends, sir! In case you might not have noticed over these past few years, Hermione's one of them. I absolutely  _cannot_  just stand by and let her be bullied over something out of her control. It's not her fault Mr. and Mrs. Granger are Muggles, is it? Let's not forget the countless other Muggleborns around here, even those hiding in Slytherin. I suspect there certainly are some with us now."

"Very few, less than a handful I'd reckon," says Snape. "Who do you think you are? Betraying your own House with this supposedly  _noble_  crusade of yours? What makes you think anyone in Slytherin, myself included, would just allow you to sabotage our chances this year?"

It's very fortunate that Snape's casted a few spells earlier to prevent eavesdropping from outside, since he's nearly shouting now.

"Well maybe it's because I'm a Half-Blood, sir!" Harry stands face-to-face (or rather, looking up a slight bit) with his Head of House. A fiery glint of determination wells up from within, causing his eyes to glisten in the slight moonlight. "Sorry I'm not one of your perfect Pureblood students, Professor."

"What does that have to do with betraying our House, Potter? Answer my question right now."

"I know you dislike me and don't care about where I come from, but I was brought into this world by a Muggleborn. My very first friend who I met on the train is a Muggleborn. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to keep  _that_  kind of friendship going, sir?"

" _Don't_  ask me that question." Snape's expression now surprises Harry a fair bit. "Carry on with your little sermon, I doubt anybody's sneaking around the fifth floor anyway."

"I respect you a lot, Professor, perhaps more than you'd care to believe. So maybe I do feel like rubbish for working against my own House, my own people. But right now, the main thing on my mind is bringing down these discriminative fools who've already made Hermione's life hell with insults. Not a day might go by without her hearing 'Mudblood' from at least one of them. What makes it even worse is that she could've ditched me long ago but noooo. She stuck by me through thick and thin, from Quirrell to Tom Riddle and onwards. How can I just lose such a brilliant girl who's almost died for me?"

Snape remains surprisingly quiet while staring Harry down as the latter speaks.

"I'll do whatever it takes to curb the Dark Lord's influence in this school. If it means doing so via Quidditch, via turning into girls or Weasleys, then so be it. With all due respect, sir, feel free to have Professor Dumbledore stop me if it bothers you that much. It's either my 'noble crusade' as you put it, or me spending these days with Sirius at home."

"The Headmaster has informed me that your Occlumency lessons are to begin next month," says Snape. "Treat it like your little mission against Slytherin and you might make some progress."

"Call me a traitor but I'm proud of it."

"I didn't call you a traitor, Potter. Just remember how much effort people like Professor Dumbledore have put in to get you out of trouble. Last thing we need is for you to screw up and reveal yourself before there can be reason to allow you in here."

"Surely, expelled students can visit their old school?" asks Harry, eliciting a scoff from Snape.

"Not when the Minister is convinced that the Headmaster is plotting to overthrow him. And let's not forget how Cornelius Fudge views you as the next Dark Lord."

"But I'm  _not_  the Dark Lord! He _kills_ Muggleborns, I befriend them. That's a pretty big difference right there."

"Enough!" Snape turns on his heels while heading for the door. "We've wasted enough time with your 'apologies'. Do what you feel is right then, Potter. But if I have to hand over the Cup this year then you'd better get it back next, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sixth and seventh year I'm expecting you to bring that Cup into my office, nobody else's! And even if you miss out on this year I don't care. In that case I'll just wait until 1998, '99... the new millennium even, if it means you making up for this year's sabotage."

"I'll do my best, Professor." Harry slips back under his Invisibility Cloak before making his way up to the seventh floor again. He still can't help but feel there's something about Severus Snape that remains unclear. No point in dwelling on such thoughts now, though, as Harry enters to find a happy Hermione powering through her stack of assignments.

"So, how'd it go?" she asks, while writing quite swiftly now.

"Not sure. Truth be told, it wasn't as bad as I'd prepared for."

"That's a good sign then." Hermione levitates a stack of books off the couch for Harry to sit. "Over here, Mister."

"Let's see what there is to learn from my Granger tonight." He now sits beside Hermione and reads over her work while resting his head on her shoulder. "You're so cosy that I could surely fall asleep on my hardworking... pillow..."

 


	12. Harry's Prized Memory

_Tuesday, November 12th, 1995._

If there's one spell that's made Harry kiss Hermione in appreciation this year, it's the Obliteration Charm. A most useful manner of swiftly removing one's footprints in the snow while walking.

"It's quite logical, really," says a giggling Hermione, after being kissed on the forehead in the Room of Requirement. "Footprints don't just appear by themselves like that."

Harry, who's laying across her lap as Hermione continues to study, smiles up at her. "So, you waited five years to teach me that spell?"

"Well, you've never had to sneak through snow this much before. Now I'll miss seeing your little footsteps."

"My footsteps are not little," replies Harry. "You know what they say about the size of a boy's feet..."

"And what do they say, hmm?" Hermione holds her book aside to grin at Harry. "You're probably a flobberworm down there."

"Basilisk."

"Flobberworm."

"Nagini!"

Hermione frowns in confusion. "What?"

"Voldemort's pet snake," says Harry. "Smaller but more useful than Salazar's basilisk."

"Is Nagini a normal snake?"

Harry pauses for thought before responding. "She's big, green, and probably around a dozen feet long. From what I've heard in the graveyard, that's one fatally venomous serpent. She's no basilisk, though which is a good thing for Voldemort's followers. I just don't see how Salazar's serpent could have ever been of use."

"And what do you mean by that?" Hermione smiles as Harry goes off on his usual explanations again.

"How exactly would that thing be used in battle? Good and bad guys alike would die from looking in its eyes, I think. It was too large to manoeuvre spaces the way Voldemort's current snake does."

"You know," says Hermione, while shutting her book after having spent most of lunch hour in this room. "I wonder what would've happened if diary-Riddle came to life and escaped?"

"Knowing him, the young Tom would've found his baby-thing self and gotten all the information from present Voldemort. Then he'd just kill the old guy off or, I dunno, do some Dark magic to maybe absorb him? I highly doubt there'd be two Voldemorts going around though, too much rivalry there."

"But you stopped him," says Hermione. "Stopped that monster from being young again."

"What about this monster laying on your lap, Miss Granger?"

She remains smiling while running her fingers along his messy fringe. "I can live with this one. It's quite docile, well, mostly so."

With just under twenty minutes to go until Hermione's next class, Harry closes his eyes as she continues to caress him. "Care of Magical Creatures next, huh?"

"Yep," says Hermione, who's recently visited Hagrid, with Ron, to hear the story of the former's failed mission to recruit the giants. "Let's hope he doesn't give a bad impression with Umbridge who'd surely be inspecting him today."

"Give me an honest answer," says Harry. "Who do you think is the better teacher between Hagrid and Grubbly-Plank?"

An awkward silence fills the room as Hermione's expression turns rather guilty. "Um, well..."

"It's fine, I understand." Harry sits up from her lap then stretches out. "Quite frankly, I enjoy the thrill of Hagrid's crazier classes, like those skrewts last year."

"A very Gryffindor-like answer, Harry," says Hermione. "Not that I think it's that easy to segregate attributes into Houses."

"Well then, my Slytherin-ish answer would be that having Hagrid benefits me more than Grubbly-Plank."

"But Professor Grubbly-Plank teaches, well, proper stuff for our O.W.Ls and beyond. Hagrid's far too erratic even though he's a great friend. He knows his stuff but just doesn't remain academically consistent, no offense."

"Ah but you see..." Harry flicks a few locks of Hermione's bushy hair before standing up from the couch. "I'm not looking to pursue a career related to Magizoology, am I? Good grades are all that matter, and Hagrid's almost guaranteed to pass me off that way. Grubbly-Plank's a nice enough woman, but she's far more impartial than our friendly neighbourhood Keeper of Keys. There's more benefit for me to have Hagrid around."

"Spoken like a true creature of the dungeons, Mister Potter," says Hermione, who smiles while shaking her head. "Would you like to join us in class outside? At least you'll finally attend Care of Magical Creatures now that you're able to erase your footprints."

"Offer accepted, pretty Mugglebabe." Harry hides beneath his Invisibility Cloak while following Hermione all the way to Hagrid's Cabin. The Obliteration Charm truly proves to be a blessing as they trek through layers of snow. Upon reaching the cabin, Hermione's harassed by a familiar group of boys while Hagrid and the rest move towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Go around, boys," says Malfoy. "It's better than walking too close to a Mudblood out here."

Hermione ignores the remark.

"I certainly don't want to get near that ugly girl," says Nott, much to the amusement of Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini. "Guess what, Granger? Your stupid, filthy, half-giant oaf of a friend's getting inspected today. Let's hope anyone can understand him through all those grunts and animalistic mannerisms of his."

Blaise Zabini adds to the attempted bullying as the group sees Hagrid calling them over (while the Gryffindors glare at the boys harassing Hermione) . "Since we're on the topic of inspection, what exactly did Potter always see in you?"

"Yeah," agrees Nott. "Granger's really not that pretty at all. I mean, look at her! How many hours do you boys reckon she slaved away temporarily fixing that mess on her head last year? Even with normal-sized teeth, she's still in the top twenty least attractive students around."

"Yeah," grunts Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter made it sound like you're actually attractive, Granger," says Malfoy. "He must've suffered a permanent Confundus Charm at some point in his life."

Walking beneath the Cloak nearby, Harry takes aim at Crabbe and Goyle since they're the easiest to influence. While attempting to get his spell right, he endures seeing Hermione forcibly ignoring this barrage of insults.

Next up, Crabbe tries to join in. "She is very ug-ger-ly—"

" _Imperio_."

"Crabbe!" shouts Zabini, who backs off in shock. "What the hell is that smell coming from your trousers?"

Now Malfoy swiftly turns around before pulling his face in disgust. "Have you actually soiled yourself? I smell urine and... ugh."

Harry withdraws his Imperius Curse while grinning wickedly.

"Surely he needs to get cleaned up?" asks Hermione. "Cast some cleaning spells on him or something—"

"Shut up," mutters Nott. "Think you're clever, Muggleswine? I'm going to beat you in Arithmancy, just you watch. Disgusting outsiders coming from the Muggle world thinking they can outshine us esteemed magical folk..."

"Well I never! That was just uncalled for, hmph." Hermione stomps through the snow while making her way towards Hagrid. Meanwhile, Harry now takes aim at Nott's bag.

" _Diffindo_."

"For God's sake!" sighs Malfoy. "Your bag's split open, Nott. This is one unlucky day so far. Let's hope it doesn't reach the point that Hagrid ends up safe from Professor Umbridge's inspection."

If he hadn't been erasing his footprints, Harry knows they'd instantly suspect him. But he now simply walks away from the cleaning and packing group while headed towards the Forbidden Forest. With each step, he remains casting the Obliteration Charm to prevent any tracks in plain sight. Not so much as a footprint can even be seen as Harry steps through layers of snow-covered grounds this afternoon.

Today's lesson appears to involve Thestrals, which only a very few students can actually see. It also amuses Harry to find himself just as invisible to others as these winged horses happen to be. Hurried footsteps entering the forest soon alert him to the arrival of the flustered Slytherin boys. Crabbe and Nott have now fixed their earlier 'misfortunes' and stand clearly displeased with this class.

Malfoy soon tries (and fails) to demand an explanation for Hagrid's visible injuries. Then he turns his attention to the expanse of ground where Hagrid's pointing at. "What exactly are we even supposed to be seeing here?"

"Thestrals look disgusting," says Nott, who Harry knows understands death via the loss of his mother long ago. "You're not missing much at all, trust me. Ugh, look at it eating that carcass! Think my lunch might even come up soon at this rate..."

"Every single one of his classes is a waste of time," mutters Zabini, who soon looks over his shoulder. "Finally, here comes Professor Umbridge to get rid of this half-breed."

While Umbridge makes her presence known to begin today's inspection, Harry moves to get a better view over proceedings. It's dark and cold in the Forbidden Forest, but one look at Pansy nearby has Harry feeling as warm as can be. Her expression, even at rest, forever conveys a hint of mischief.

It truly infuriates Harry to see the High Inquisitor passively mocking Hagrid whenever she can. From pretending not to understand his speech, to miming her responses when replying, Umbridge has the Slytherin boys in fits of laughter now. The girls, including Pansy, are certainly aware of Hagrid's friendship with Harry. This earns him a modicum of respect in their opinion, causing them to rather focus on scribbling whatever they can in their books.

If he could, Harry would definitely light Umbridge's green tweed cloak on fire right now. Or he'd blast off the matching hat and send it flying through the forest for her to chase. But he plays it safe and looks at a tearful Hermione instead. The latter clearly expresses her anger towards this unfair treatment of Hagrid, who hardly understands the subtle discrimination shown by Umbridge now.

"Do you, Mister Nott, feel that you understand Professor Hagrid when he speaks?"

Nott, who's already sniggered with the boys for the past few minutes, shakes his head. "It takes a while to pick up on all the grunting, ma'am."

"Well then, cast _Accio_ on your earwax," says Pansy. "Most of us are fine."

"Thank you for your input, Miss Parkinson," says a smiling Umbridge, who mutters while writing on her clipboard. " _Unable... to... properly... enunciate... his... lessons... to... students.._." She then walks towards some of the Gryffindors while Nott approaches Pansy.

"Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not defending this big oaf, but I sure as hell am not gonna speak lies against him."

"Potter's gone for good. No need to be nice to his circus friends anymore," says Nott. "Professor Grubbly-Plank is 1500% more useful than this part-human."

"Shove your phoney calculations up your arse, thank you." Pansy folds her arms and tilts her cute nose in the air. "I can think for myself."

Instead of getting angry, Nott seems to take her resistance as a challenge. "Don't worry, you'll soon enjoy being on the right side when we form our special squad."

Eventually, Umbridge interrogates Neville with regards to his perception of today's class, to which he nervously nods in approval.

"Longbottom's always too afraid to voice his honest opinion," says Zabini, who receives a smile from the High Inquisitor.

"Very good, Mister Zabini, five points to Slytherin. Yes, I fully agree with your keen observation." She once again scribbles on her clipboard. " _Exhibits... fear... of... expressing... true... opinion... in... class... Possibly... due... to... potential... of... retaliation... by... Professor... with... known... history... of... violence_."

"What?" Ron throws his arms up in disbelief. "That's not true—"

"Shhh, Ron!" whispers Hermione loudly. "Just... don't."

"Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting Ministry-related affairs, Mister Weasley. Anymore disruptions and it'll be detention, understand?"

"I have something to add," says Goyle, who seems desperate to finally make a good impression on a Professor. "Ma'am Umbridge—"

" _Imperio_ ," whispers Harry.

"Yes, Mister Goyle? I would appreciate any input you have with regards to Professor Hagrid's class—"

A ferociously loud, wet fart rips out from a shocked Goyle's behind, causing uncontrollable laughter across the Gryffindors (and Slytherin girls).

"Enough!" Umbridge glares at them before turning to address Goyle in an overly sweet manner. "Explain yourself, please."

Malfoy shakes his head and sighs. "Crabbe earlier as well... they must've had something bad, or too much, during lunch. Ugh, Goddamn that stench, Goyle! Sorry about this, Professor Umbridge."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened there," says Goyle, once the Curse is withdrawn. "I was gonna say something about unfairness towards us Slytherins."

Hagrid, as well as everyone else, backs off before Hermione raises her hand (while pinching her nose). In a slightly squeaky voice, she tries to speak. "With all due respect, Professor Umbridge, Goyle's accusation is untrue. Harry Potter was a Slytherin, and he was treated quite fairly. Professor Hagrid never picks on students—"

"Please do not mention that murderer's name in our institution, Miss Granger."

"Excuse me?" Hermione stands rather surprised for a few seconds before deciding to step back. It's useless arguing against this woman and risking the black quill once more.

"Yeah," mutters Malfoy. "Know your place and back off, Granger."

Following her last bit of inspection, Umbridge soon informs Hagrid (via speaking and miming her actions) that his results shall arrive in ten days' time. Twenty minutes later sees many angered Gryffindors climbing the slopes behind a laughing group of Slytherin boys. Confrontations soon break out as expected and, during the heated row, Harry spots Hermione walking over to thank Pansy for her efforts.

"Whatever," says Pansy in return. "I only did it 'cos he's a friend of Harry's. Don't get the wrong idea that I like the oaf or something, Granger. Now we girls need to go study while Nott and the idiots waste time starting fights."

"Yeah, let's go," says Tracey. "Never liked Nott anyway."

"I reckon we should go over Transfiguration," says Daphne, as the five girls swiftly make their way up the snowy slopes.

Meanwhile, Harry creeps over to watch Ron, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, and Neville stand-off against the fifth-year Slytherin boys.

"You lot did that on purpose, didn't you?" asks Lavender. "I know Grubbly-Plank might be better in some ways but Hagrid's no dumb troll!"

"You sure about that?" asks a sneering Malfoy, who's flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"All you folks do is lie and lie and lie 24/7," says Parvati. "It's like you lost your decency now that Harry's gone.

"Just great!" shouts Nott. "Yet another Potter sympathiser around these days."

Seamus now speaks, "Hey, I'm no Harry Potter supporter but I still think it's a prat move you gits are pulling on Hagrid."

"Shame," laughs Zabini, "and here we thought you at least had a fifth of a brain, Finnigan. If your mother believes the _Daily Prophet_ , then surely you should see the benefit of change around here."

"Don't insult Seamus, you gits," warns Dean.

"Ah be quiet, Mudblood," scoffs Malfoy, while sweeping his hand dismissively at Dean. "Leave the arguing to us magical folk, alright?"

"You know," says Ron. "This bunch has certainly been more outspoken now that Harry's gone. Perhaps You-Know-Who really is back? That'll also explain why they're so bold with their insults."

"Why don't you say that louder, Weasley?" asks Zabini. "Say it loud enough in classes and Professor Umbridge will have her say in the matter."

"Yeah," agrees Nott. "That's all just conspiracy talk. The Dark Lord is certainly not back at all. Nope, no, sir! Harry Potter's the real villain in this world, and now he's free. But at least he got his wand snapped, so that's less of a danger to society."

"At least Harry Potter never got his Quidditch team owned like you losers did," says Lavender. "All that Pureblood talk and yet you still lost the match."

"You should be cheering for our team, Brown, you're a Pureblood too," says Malfoy. "At least we don't recruit blood traitors coming from a family with more kids than they can afford. I'm looking at you, Weasley. How's the barn feeling in winter? Must be cold sleeping on piles of hay or washing in puddles of mud."

" _Stup_ —"

"Ron, NO!" screams Hermione, while the Slytherins laugh at Ron's friends forcibly holding him back. "Don't do it, don't get yourself in detention!"

"Don't do it," mimics Malfoy. "Don't get yourself in detention!" He laughs with the rest of his roommates. "Pathetic, Granger, you'll all know your places soon enough. But I'm not indulging any conspiracy talks here, nope. The Dark Lord is long gone, yes."

Zabini turns around while the group starts singing _'Weasley is our King_ ' as they head back up the slopes. This leaves a fuming Ron to shove away Hermione.

"Shouldn't have held me back! I could've gotten that pig real good."

"You're a Prefect, Ron! You could've just stayed calm and deducted points for discrimination," says Hermione. "I wanted to do just that until all the fighting started."

"Come on, Seamus, let's kick some ball and forget those prats," says Dean.

"Better kick 'em out of Umbridge's sight then. She'd go nuts on Muggle activities in Hogwarts. So... penalty shots and I'm goalie!" Seamus hurries off alongside Dean as they race back up the slopes.

"Well, good on them for still having fun," says Harry, whose voice startles everyone but Hermione.

"Is that—"

"Quiet, Neville." Hermione starts leading the group back up the slopes. "Snakey, keep casting that Obliteration Charm so you don't leave any footprints."

"Wait, so he does actually have a real Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yeah but shhhh, Lavender!" says Ron. "Can't let him be seen, heard or suspected to be around here."

"Snakey?" laughs Harry, while creeping behind the leftover fifth-year Gryffindors. "Is that my nickname now? Too afraid to use my real one? It's still far too obvious though."

Parvati looks up to the cloudy skies in thought. "Hmmm..."

"Nobody knows what this means so how about we call you... Prongs?" asks Hermione, to which Ron agrees.

"Oh hell no!" Harry nearly trips over his own feet. "Professor Snape would get a heart attack if he ever overheard that."

"Huh?" Lavender looks most confusedly at Parvati and Neville, who each shrug in return. "Never mind, probably weird stuff again."

"We seriously need a codename for our Snakey," says Hermione. "Well, your dad's a no-go because of... reasons. Maybe we ought to call you Flower, because of your mum?"

"I think the best name would be no name, so just don't talk about me at all in public," says Harry. "No better security than that."

"Herbology with Hufflepuff is next on our schedule," says Lavender. "I take it He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named over here's not joining us?"

"Oh come on, that's not funny." Harry sighs before agreeing that it's better if he returns to the room. "The Dark Lord shall now take his leave. Cheers, young Lions."

***

By the fourth week of November, Harry knows exactly what Hermione's like when the work stacks up. With their cuddling gradually declining, he soon decides upon giving her some much-needed space for her academic benefit.

"I can tell you're hectic busy this year, more so than ever before," he says, while seeing Hermione looking rather frustrated in the Room of Requirement.

"Oh, Harry—I'm sorry—please don't get the wrong impression. It's just that O.W.L. year's—"

"Extremely stressful, yes, I understand. Perhaps it might be better if you studied in the library as usual? Rather than with me practicing spells in here."

"But I'd hate for you to miss out on anything and fail this year should you eventually return."

Harry shrugs his shoulders while walking around the couch where Hermione's sitting. "It's not like I'm leaning over your shoulder reading every word you study. Don't compromise your work just because of me."

"But—"

"You're a girl that needs her space, and it took me less than a month in first year to see that." Harry pauses for a moment's reminiscence before smiling. "Go do your _light reading_ in the comfort of the library."

She stands up and packs her books, then grabs him into a warm hug. "Thanks for being so understanding, Harry, truly. You know I always love spending time with you..."

"Okay, no need to make this so sappy. It's not like I'm gonna be dying or anything," replies Harry while laughing. "Hope you don't mind if I get Ginny up here for some fun? Quidditch-wise, I mean."

"Sure, knock yourself out—"

"Not literally, I know."

Hermione snaps her fingers right before exiting the room. "Aha! I'll summarise and write some paragraphs for you while I study. Should be beneficial for us both that way, yes?"

"Yeah, spread your wings and fly to the library, my bookworm! Have a good study on this fine Friday evening."

Once Hermione takes her leave to the library, Harry checks up on his recently completed brewing. Two cauldrons filled with Polyjuice should provide him with approximately a dozen doses. Judging by the quality of this batch, he reckons each ought to last about four to six hours on average.

Following Hermione suggestion, Harry stores the potions in a dozen flasks conjured up by the room. This allows him to reuse both cauldrons while beginning the third batch which is due in three weeks' time. Surprisingly, it just so happens to be on the final day of term that they'll be done. Everything appears in order and soon Harry slips on his Invisibility Cloak before tracking Ginny on the Marauder's Map.

It's well past four o'clock (sunset) as Harry now makes his way through torchlit corridors towards the sixth floor. Just as he'd seen on the Map, Ginny's accompanied by a handful of Gryffindors chatting merrily as she walks. But Harry immediately creeps up to caress her thigh.

"Yikes!"

"Huh? What's wrong, Ginny?"

"Um, you folks go back to the common room. I've got my own stuff to deal with this evening."

"Alright," says a lower-year Gryffindor girl. "Make sure you're back before curfew or, if not, make sure Filch doesn't catch you."

"Who's there?" whispers Ginny, once the corridor has been deserted. "Is it..."

"Yeah, it's me." Harry keeps his voice to a whisper while asking if she'd like to practice in the room.

"Like?" Ginny softly laughs. "I'd love that! I'm Chaser and you're Keeper, but I'm putting plenty past you."

"Oh yeah? Well then let's be off, Little Miss Weasley."

By the time they reach the seventh floor corridor, Ginny walks thrice past the room to have it transform into their makeshift Quidditch area. Minutes later sees her mounting a Nimbus 2000 while Harry mounts a Cleansweep Eleven.

"You sure you don't want a Firebolt?" asks Ginny. "Chaser's my natural first position, you know."

"Of course I know. After all, you mostly play Seeker to fly against your Chamber of Secrets hero." Harry grins while flashing his brows at the blushing Ginny.

"Oh yes, of course I love flying against you, Tom."

"Very funny, Little Miss Muffet."

Ginny narrows her eyes while bouncing the Quaffle in her hands. "You're an okay Keeper, but I'm a better Chaser, hmph."

"I certainly am a keeper, huh? Hahahaha!" Harry spins around to fly off and take up position at the goalposts. "Come on then, let's see some wind in your hair."

Knowing full well that Harry always compliments her hair, Ginny flies forward to take the shot on goal. While nearing the posts, she rolls left (to which he rolls right) then right (and he again blocks her) before coming face-to-face with the smirking Slytherin.

"Ooooh no, little wittle Weasley can't get past the big bad Potter," says Harry, who again matches her every attempt at evading him. "Uh uh uh"—He flies left as she goes right—"Nope, sorry"—Now he blocks her from rolling left—"What a cute angry face you've got there."

"Sneak attack!" Ginny shakes her head to let her flaming red hair swish about, leaving Harry to briefly stare. "Mwahahaha! So distractible"—She seizes the opportunity to slot in a goal—"He stood still like a vegetable."

"That wasn't fair at all."

"Oh what's wrong, big bad Potter? Has your big bad ego been flattened by a girl?" A giggling Ginny repeatedly spins around before facing Harry again. "Not my fault that you're as hard down there as that broomstick you're on."

"Round two, let's go. This time I'm not falling for that." Harry readies himself as Ginny flies in for her next attempt. Again he blocks her every move until she backs off and slaloms in from the left.

_THUD!_

He flies face-first into the hoop as Ginny slots in the second goal before sniggering. "What the—? Are you alright? The heck did you just collide with the hoop, silly Slytherin?"

"I'm alright! Got distracted, sorry!" laughs Harry, before taking up position and lowering his voice. "Distracted by your arse, that is..."

"Here I come so get ready, Mister!" Ginny speeds in for her third attempt as Harry eyes her movements.

"Are you just red on the head?"

Her gasp of surprise lets Harry swoop in to snatch the Quaffle before spinning on the spot.

"Whooo, yeah! Who's distracted this time, huh? Weasley is my Queen, she can't get the Quaffle in!"

"Okay," mutters a scowling Ginny. "Now it's on, Harry Potter..."

They battle for domination over the next hour, and as much as Ginny scores, Harry saves his share of attempts too.

"You've got some skill there," he says, after saving another shot on target. "But I've got raw talent."

"Yeah, well, go cook it then!" Ginny speeds in to narrowly outfly Harry before managing another toss on goal. "Spice it too, shame."

***

The arrival of December brings some of the most controversial news Harry's yet heard this year. On Sunday, the 1st, Hermione arrives in the Room of Requirement bearing a note from Professor Dumbledore.

"What? Is this for real?"

With tears in her eyes, Hermione nods. "It's a step in the right direction, isn't it? You've officially been granted permission to use a wand again. Whatever Professor Dumbledore has debated before the Wizengamot seems to have paid off."

"I bet it'd look real stupid when the newspapers publish this, eh?" asks Harry. "So I'm still expelled from school, still seen as a murderer, but now I'm allowed to own a wand? And they're not even enforcing strict supervision over my every move? What's with these people?"

"Professor Dumbledore reckons Cornelius Fudge is waiting for you to mess up again. So the reason for not having you kept under watch is to actually tempt you to do something that will make the Ministry prove their point."

"I see," says Harry. "So they're lulling me into a false sense of security, hmm? They don't care where I am or what I'm currently doing. Then, if I get caught breaking rules again, Fudge can use that as definite proof that he's 100% right. Now all of a sudden even Dumbledore's Army feels a bit too risky..."

"Don't say that! Don't let their mind games get to you. Because we've all benefitted immensely from your teachings."

"Our teachings, Hermione."

"Fine, our teachings then, since you're so insistent. But you're the one with more experience than the rest of us." Hermione now gives a slight smile. "It's kind of exciting, isn't it? Breaking the rules..."

"Fun for you, yeah, but for me it's risking another jail sentence. And this time I doubt I'll be released after three months. What if someone betrayed us—"

"Nobody," Hermione absolutely rips up the note, "will betray us. But if anyone does then we'll know about it. And I'll make... them... pay for endangering my Mister Potter." Her glare turns to a smile once again, leaving Harry nearly gawking as she burns up the bits of parchment.

"You're so damn hot when you're like that, heck yeah!"

"Oh, and Professor Dumbledore also told me to remind you of your upcoming lessons with Professor Snape. I reckon he still thinks your mind might be suffering from that time in Azkaban," says Hermione. "But it's nearly two months since you came out, though, and you seem well enough to me."

"That's the troubling part, Hermione. For some reason I get these flashes from Voldemort, I can feel his emotions when they're particularly strong... and yet it doesn't feel like Legilimency. It doesn't feel like he's trying to invade my mind like when Professor Dumbledore gave me those basic Occlumency lessons last year."

"I... actually don't have an answer to that. Yes, go ahead and laugh that I, Hermione Granger, am clueless with regards to why you're able to read into Voldemort's mind."

Harry now lays back on the bed while reminding Hermione of what Dumbledore once said. "Supposedly this scar connects us in some way, dunno the finer details, though. Hope I don't grow tall, bald, and looking like a demonic snake. Are my eyes still green? No hint of red?"

"Well, they're red from lack of sleep, yes. But nothing the way you described Voldemort to look." Hermione yawns rather widely before sighing. "It's lower-year curfew now so I guess I'm off to patrol the corridors. Christmas season means we Prefects are expected to help with many things around the castle. It doesn't help that Mr. Filch believes the joyous atmosphere will encourage wizarding duels around the school. I suppose it's just more work for us... in this crucial year."

After kissing Hermione's hand, Harry soon tucks himself into bed while she stands beside him. "Watch out for Peeves around this time of the year, nasty little bugger he can be. Good night, Muggle wuggle."

"Good night and sleep well, Snakey."

Monday starts the antepenultimate week of term as Harry climbs out of bed to have his breakfast. He then forgoes using Polyjuice Potion and instead spends much of the day reading through Hermione's study summaries. The hours seemingly race by as Harry revises both theoretical work and his arsenal of spells in the practice area.

Eventually, as the clock nears six, Harry thanks Dobby for bringing him yet another meal. Then he grabs his Cloak and Map before exiting the room to head for the dungeons. It takes him no more than fifteen minutes to creep towards Snape's office, and each step makes him giddy with excitement.

After checking to see that nobody's around, Harry knocks on the door before entering the rather shadowy room. Its shelves are lined with jars containing all manner of animals bits or plants suspended in potions. He also spots Dumbledore's Pensieve laying on Snape's desk and reckons there might be sensitive memories hidden within.

"Shut the door, Potter, and I hope you brought that foul, loathsome, infernal Map of yours."

Harry immediately shuts the door then removes his Cloak, before setting it aside and placing the Map on a nearby end table. "Yes, sir, here it is."

Following Snape's silent instruction, Harry takes a seat facing his Head of House. They now look upon each other with cold black eyes meeting green, though Harry doesn't feel any Legilimency being used yet.

"Well, Potter, you should know why you are here, I presume?"

"Yes, sir, we're continuing from Professor Dumbledore's Occlumency lessons."

Snape nods while keeping his gaze fixed upon Harry. "This is no ordinary class, and I am no Professor Dumbledore. There will be no jokes and light-hearted comments in this room, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Narrowed eyes remain fixed  upon Harry as Snape continues to speak. "Do you remember what Occlumency is about, Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you understand why it is necessary for you to learn this skill?"

"Of course, Professor."

"Prove it." Snape straightens up in his chair. "Explain to me what you remember from your lessons with the Headmaster, and then we'll know if you're bluffing."

Harry knows that demonstrating competence is the best way of withstanding Snape's snide nature. After all, he's had many years of experience with this man as his Head of House already.

"Occlumency is a type of magic that seals one's mind against magical intrusion. It also assists with conveying lies and hiding the truth from those who might subject one to Legilimency, sir." Harry pauses for a moment to savour Snape's disappointment at him actually remembering this. "Although the Dark Lord is far away, and unable to make eye contact with me, there's still some kind of link between the two of us. A link that has grown stronger since the Dark Lord returned to a fully functional body. Professor Dumbledore would not want the Dark Lord to exploit this connection, should he be aware of it."

"Well, at least somebody's been listening to his Headmaster..."

"Oh come on, sir, don't be like that," says Harry. "I work hard in your class, don't I? It's not like I constantly fail Potions or anything."

"Arrogance, Potter, keep it in check. Lest you end up like your blessed father..."

Harry folds his arms and shakes his head. "What exactly is it about my father that you hate so much, sir? I really am curious because nobody else tends to say anything bad about him at all."

"Your father was a swine!"

"And my mother? Hardly anyone ever talks about her. All I ever hear about is _'you have your mother's eyes_ '. It's like nobody has anything else to say other than seeing me as someone with two green things in my head."

Snape stands up to remove a few memories before placing them into the stone basin. Then he moves the Pensieve to another shelf before standing in front of Harry with his wand at the ready.

"Um, sir." Harry shifts rather uncomfortably in his seat. "Would you mind doing that for me as well? There are some pretty confidential memories in my head."

"Nothing is private from the Dark Lord, Potter, so get used to it. Now draw your wand in order to defend yourself by any means you can think of... besides the Killing Curse."

"Right, sir, no flash of green, understood."

"Let us hope that Azkaban hasn't impaired your mental defences too much, Potter, _Legilimens_!"

Although Harry tries to put his Occlumency basics to use, he's still partially caught off-guard by Snape.

***

Much of the surrounding office now vanishes to an empty classroom lit by sunset. A familiar splash of silvery blonde hair adorns a most beautiful face, but in a most compromising position now.

"Ooooo' leetle 'Arry is not as leetle as I first zought, per'aps I ought to put my, as you call eet, smart-mouth to good use yes? Lay back and let me give you something good, my darling. I shall treat it like a liquorice wand but without ze biting, you see...."

***

"ENOUGH!" shouts Snape, as the office swiftly comes into view, and Harry sees his Head of House leaning over the table. "While it was promising that I've only seen one memory..."

"You can't say I didn't warn you, Professor." Harry feels the rush of heat to his now flushed cheeks.

"What the hell was that about, Potter? Ugh... I think I'm going to be sick..."

"Need a bezoar, sir?"

"Even a hundred won't help with this." Snape swiftly brings his wand up to his temple. "I never ever want to see whatever it is you've done with your... never mind!" He hurriedly withdraws what Harry reckons could be that lewd memory involving Fleur last year. But instead of storing it into the Pensieve, Snape manages to utterly destroy the silvery substance before seeming slightly confused. "What was that about, Potter?"

"A most obscene memory involving myself and Miss Delacour, sir."

"Really?" Snape now grimaces a fair bit. "I do not wish to subject myself to such matters. Stand by the Pensieve and try to recall every obscene, if not depraved, act you have done."

"I haven't done anything depraved, sir." Harry soon stands before the stone basin while recalling any lewd encounter (or Unforgivable casting on students) he's had thus far. Each memory now leaves him as they are withdrawn and stored in the Pensieve. Once finished, he turns to look at Snape. "Seems we both have memories to hide from each other, eh, sir?"

"Do not touch that Pensieve if you know what's good for you, Potter. I will not warn you again. Now then, let us continue."

They step away from the stone basin before Snape has another go at breaking into Harry's mind. Once again, the amount of memories seen are impressively limited to just a few, namely second-year...

***

"I thought we were supposed to be friends, Harry."

"Why won't you leave me alone, Hermione? What if I don't want to be your friend?"

"Yeah, you tell her, Potter! She's nothing but a filthy Mudblood!"

"A what?" Harry stands fairly confused while looking at Draco, after having bested him in second-year Seeker tryouts.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" yells Ron, catching Draco with a most unpleasant little spell that has the latter vomiting slugs. Harry, meanwhile, stands before team Slytherin and his roommates as they draw their wands.

"What did you that for, Weasel?"

"Don't poke fun at Ron's surname, Harry," says Hermione. "You're better than this!"

"You gonna let this thing boss you around, Potter?" asks Theodore Nott. "She's been dragging you along to the third floor last year for whatever reason, man. It's time you stopped letting this thing order you around."

"Do it," says Zabini. "Call her for what she is!"

While Marcus Flint and the rest of the team start brawling with Oliver Wood's side, Harry finds himself on the receiving end of many Gryffindor spells as Draco remains vomiting on the ground.

"Maybe we should just send him to the Hospital Wing?" asks Ron. "Since he's no better than his git friends after all."

"Yeah," says Seamus. "Potter's just another rotten Slytherin, no matter what supposedly 'good deeds' he's done for the school last year."

"Leave him alone!" Hermione puts herself between Ron's group and the downed Harry. "Leave him alone, Harry's not as bad as his friends, Ron."

"So what if he helped take down Quirrell last year? Look at him!" Ron points at Harry trying to get up from the ground. "Don't you know what that word means, Hermione? That M word said by Malfoy means 'dirty blood', because you come from Muggles."

"Really? I didn't know..." Hermione's expression turns to tearful surprise. "But I'm still not letting you hurt Harry, now take your boys and back off."

"Fine." Ron does as told. "But you watch how Potter gets just as bad, if not worse, than those discriminative gits over there."

"Here, sorry about that." Hermione bends to lift Harry to his feet, though the latter scowls at her.

"I don't need your help!"

Standing nearby, Nott and Zabini whisper deliberately loud. "Say it, Potter, say it! You know you wanna call her for what she is! Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood..."

"I don't need your help," repeats Harry, while Hermione ignores the other Slytherins and pats the grass off him. "Mu—"

She stops, and the two Slytherins behind Harry look on most eagerly.

"Yeah, stick it to Mudblood Granger!" says Nott.

"Stick what to me, Harry?" Hermione now folds her arms while staring him in the eye.

"Muggleborn."

"ARGH NO!" Zabini laughs in disbelief. "Nah, man, come on. You can do better than that. Let me spell it out for you, Potter, M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D."

A satisfied grin appears on Hermione's face as she tosses Harry's wand his way. "You don't have the heart to say it, do you? Because, unlike your 'friends' over there, you actually have one. Still..." She spins around while scowling and walking away. "I'm expecting an apology from you soon."

***

Everything changes from a bright, September's day, to a dark and shadowy office once more. Clutching at his forehead, Harry feels as if his mind has been thoroughly ransacked now while he sits in his chair.

"Interesting memory, Potter, but you've let me in far too deep. It seems you are capable of limiting the amount of memories presented, but sorely lack the required focus to withstand your attacker."

"Well, sir." Harry looks up to see a thoughtful Snape looking at him. "You certainly didn't end that attack as quickly as the previous memory. In fact, it felt like you were keen on watching that, why?"

"None of your business, Potter. Now then, let's continue. Put up a better struggle against my attack, or else the Dark Lord would have no trouble perusing your mind once he's aware of the connection."

"Fine then, sir, let's keep going." 


	13. The Vanishing Cabinet

Harry's first Occlumency lesson since coming out of Azkaban appears to have gone well enough. The most annoying part for him, though, is having to wait for his memories to be restored at the end of the lesson. A tedious, but necessary, task that neither Snape nor Harry seem to enjoy doing after their hour-long private lesson. Instead of the pre-arranged biweekly lessons, they agree upon using Monday evenings for Occlumency, due to the risk of Harry being discovered in Snape's office. Although the Marauder's Map provides some useful surveillance on the dungeons, they would rather not risk one too many lessons a week.

Quidditch practice (in the Room of Requirement) also picks up for him as the 7th of December grows nearer by the day. It's a good thing that Harry's got about a dozen Polyjuice doses at hand, since he already uses two during the week's practice as Ron.

"I almost feel bad cheating Cedric's team out of those goals," says Harry, once Friday evening's practice concludes. "Nobody is to say a word of this to anyone else, got it?"

"Duh," laughs Angelina. "We're not stupid, you know."

Saturday morning starts with a good dose of Polyjuice Potion for Harry, who soon heads for breakfast as team Gryffindor's Keeper. He descends the grand staircase alone before pausing on the first floor landing. There, just metres away, standing at a door off the base of the Entrance Hall are a few fifth and sixth-year Slytherins.

_"Weasley cannot save a thing, he cannot block a single ring. That's why all Slytherins sing: Weasley is our King."_

"Good morning, esteemed Captain Nott," greets Harry, while sneering in distaste upon looking over the banister.

_"Weasley was born in a bin, he always lets the Quaffle in. Weasley will make sure we win, Weasley is our King."_

Clapping his hands in mock delight, Harry scoffs. "Well, it's just too darn bad that we're not playing each other again, eh?"

_"Weasley thinks he's tough, thinks he's got the stuff. He reckons he's a Keeper, too bad his family can't get cheaper. That's why all Slytherins know: Weasley's mum is a fatso."_

Most of the group cheers and whistles at a smirking Nott who looks around at his peers. From the sixth-years to his classmates, the added lyrics seem to have gone down well enough. But Harry spots Pansy and the girls eyeing him quite suspiciously now, especially given his reaction to what would usually set Ron Weasley off.

"Wow, who knew Theodore Nott can actually sing?" Harry startles the group by climbing to stand atop the banister. "Ahem, _Nott thinks he's hot, but he's just a stinky rot."_

"Shut up, Weasel King," says Malfoy, while Nott's smirk begins to fade.

_"That's why all Gryffindors sing, Harry Potter is the King of Slytherin."_

"That rhyme absolutely sucked," says Zabini. "If you're going to praise your expelled buddy, ask someone with more brainpower than you to formulate a song."

Harry smiles at the sheer lack of suspicion displayed by his foes. "You suck, Zabini."

"Seriously?" asks a sixth-year Slytherin boy. "Is he really as dumb as he looks to have such a poor comeback? What a Poorblood that is."

"I like how Cho took your supposedly 'perfect' Pureblood team down, Nott. How'd it feel to get beaten by a girl?" Harry beckons Nott to stand in front of the group. "Don't hide back there, Nott the rot."

After hopping off the banister, Harry simply turns around and hurries down the marble staircase. Now he finds himself in the centre of the Entrance Hall with the Slytherin group on his right, and Great Hall to his left.

"Nice hat!" jeers Crabbe, in reference to Harry's Keeper headguard.

"Ron, you're a loser!" mocks Goyle, as Harry walks across the Entrance Hall to enter the Great Hall.

Seamus soon comes jogging towards him while smiling. "I'm counting on you, Ron. I have two Galleons on Gryffindor, yeah?"

Harry pats him on the shoulder as they approach to sit at the Gryffindor table. Meanwhile, Nott's group continues to taunt him once they're seated at their own House table

"Looking good, Rooooon," sings Pansy, in her playfully mischievous manner.

"Looooser!" yells Crabbe.

"What's he wearing?" asks Goyle, while the Slytherins snigger and scoff towards Harry.

Pansy, and the rest of the five girls, soon watch him from their seats as Harry sits beside Hermione.

"You didn't let anything slip, did you?" whispers Hermione in his ear. "Because Parkinson's really giving you the eye now. I think she knows it's you."

Harry smiles while dishing himself a light meal. "She knows me too well then, or it's probably Cho that did a bit of explaining."

"Ahem," says a familiar voice, before Harry looks up to see Lavender Brown practically skipping over towards him. "Good luck today, Ron."

"What are you..." Hermione giggles as Harry stands up. "Oh my gosh, he's going to be so surprised after this."

"I had a bad game against Slytherin, yeah," says Harry, while placing his hands on Lavender's shoulders. "But this time things will be different. Cheer for me, would you?"

"Of course I'll cheer for you!" Lavender bounces up and down on her heels, completely unaware that it's actually Harry and not Ron. "I know you'll be brilliant."

"Look at that loser trying to flirt, ahahahahaha!" says Zabini all the way from the Slytherin table. "Thinks he's hard after having an okay tryout session against McLaggen. Badgers and Lions all suck alike, try not to make the Duffers look too good today, Weasley."

"You're all just jealous," says Lavender in response, while folding her arms then standing between Harry and the jeering Slytherins. "You're not as good as you think, Zabini!"

"Did she just backchat _me_?" Zabini gawks at his peers. "She's really as dumb as Weasley, I reckon."

Shaking his head and gesturing a middle finger, Harry eyes Zabini down. "Watch and learn today, you loser."

"We believe in you, Ron," says a sniggering Pansy, whose statement comes across as a joke to her Housemates.

"Yeah," laughs Malfoy. "We believe in you, Ron."

But as Harry sits down, he remains discreetly locking eyes with Pansy once again. Neither of them give their peers any reason to be suspicious as they finish their meals while staring at each other.

"Good luck in the air, _Ron_ ," says Hermione. "Wouldn't want to disappoint your Lavvy wavvy, hmm?"

Breakfast goes down rather well before team Gryffindor starts leaving the Great Hall. They soon exit the castle and head towards the Quidditch stadium where Angelina finally gives her pre-match talk. Eventually, Lee Jordan's amplified voice echoes across the stadium as both teams are introduced, with his usual Gryffindor bias now showing through.

"Flying on those brilliant Nimbus 2000's are Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet as Chasers. Meanwhile, Fred and George take up Beater positions as usual! Ginny Weasley graces our Seeker position on her Nimbus 2000 while Ron Weasley sticks to that cool Cleansweep Eleven for his Keeper duties."

Cheers roar throughout the stadium as both teams are applauded from nearly everyone but House Slytherin.

"Team Hufflepuff's Chasers are: Zacharias Smith, Eurig Cadwallader, and Steven Summerby. They are flanked by Beaters Michael McManus and Joseph Stebbins. Guarding the Badgers' hoops today, we have Herbert Fleet looking to leave a lasting impression in his final year. And speaking of final year... let's not forget the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain, Cedric Diggory!"

While the teams take up positions with their Captains shaking hands, Harry can't help but slightly smile. It's truly an odd feeling to be playing a match not involving Slytherin at all, especially for House Gryffindor.

"Mount your brooms! Keepers, man your posts! The rest of you, wait until the count of three..."

As he flies towards Gryffindor's hoops, Harry feels a sense of belonging in this team. Whether it be from his father's history, Oliver Wood's favour last year, or perhaps both... it simply feels _right_ to wear scarlet and gold.

The whistle sounds before the Quaffle's hurled up into play by Madam Hooch.

"And we're off, ladies and gentlemen! Katie takes first possession in the centre, looks for Alicia... passed right over Cadwallader. Good passing so far! Here comes Summerby and Smith looking to double team Alicia. Nope, Alicia to Angelina as the lovely Captain's free to let loose!"

Even though Harry's got the talent to assist these Chasers, he keeps low by watching the action from afar. Specks of red and yellow battle for possession across the pitch while Harry constantly reminds himself:

_"It's Hufflepuff, they're your friends. Don't cheat, don't do anything odd. Hufflepuffs are good, Tonks is good. Tonks is lovely. Tonks is sexy."_

"KATIE SCORES FOR GRYFFINDOR! TEN-ZERO TO THE LIONS."

Watching this game from across the field certainly feels a drag when one's team is dominating. But Harry remains stationed at his hoops while a speck of red now heads for the opposition Keeper.

"IT'S PUT IN BY ANGELINA! CAPTAIN'S GOAL TO LEAD THE WAY AND MAKE IT TWENTY-ZERO SO FAR."

With hardly any action extending beyond the half-way zone, Harry tries to practice some Occlumency here. He battles to empty his mind, to clear his emotions...

"THIRTY-ZERO COURTESY OF ALICIA. GET IN THERE, LIONS!"

Specks of yellow grow clearer by the second as Harry tracks the oncoming Chasers. While he's used to pursuing either the Quaffle or Snitch, the former now makes its way towards him. As Keeper, he knows it's more than just the Chasers one needs to be aware of.

McManus immediately lines up a shot from the far left while waiting for a Hufflepuff Chaser to enter within scoring range. But Fred and George soon take up defensive positions while Harry braces himself for some much-needed action.

"... passed to Cadwallader... to Smith... Smith showing us what the Nimbus 1700 can still do as he evades Angelina. Smith's coming in from the left, come on, Ron!"

Somewhere in the background, Harry hears a familiar song of 'Weasley is our King', if only for a few verses.

"Stick to your own match, Slytherins," says Lee Jordan. "Here we go... Smith going for the left post..."

Harry spots a last minute change of direction, to which he rolls left and grabs hold of Smith's shot towards the centre hoop.

"SAVED BY RON AGAIN!"

No celebrations on Harry's part as he's not feeling up to it right now, due in most part to his basic Occlumency attempts. Elsewhere, Gryffindor takes the fight right up to Fleet who saves before narrowly missing Katie's shot on goal.

"KATIE SLOTS THAT ONE IN PERFECTLY! FORTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR IT IS!"

The crowd booms with applause as Hufflepuffs streak forward through the pitch's centre. From Smith to Cadwallader to Summerby, the Quaffle comes blitzing in from Harry's right.

"Shot on goal by Summerby... SAVED BY RON! Smith hits it on the rebound as Summerby backs off... CAUGHT BY RON. WHAT A LAD OUT THERE TODAY!"

"GO ON, RON, DOOOO IIIIIT!" Gryffindor's supporters scream their cheers and applause as Harry restarts play by passing to Katie.

"Katie leads the attack going forward, ducks Smith's attempted grab, narrowly misses that Bludger... Here comes Fred and George to shield our Chasers as they head forward towards goal. Quaffle goes from Angelina to Alicia... OH! Intercepted right at the end by Summerby, passed to Cadwallader now at the left flank as Hufflepuff begin their counterattack."

Harry spots them targeting the hoop on his right as they keep close to the ground.

"Summerby and Smith are showing some good passes now... there goes the Quaffle to Cadwallader! He's going for the lowest hoop but Ron's still higher up at the centre. Come on, Ron, watch those Chasers closely!"

But it's just as Harry expects: Cadwallader feints a shot before rising to go for the rightmost hoop (on Harry's left). This one's between the left and centre hoops in height, and Harry therefore rises to his left as the Quaffle is hurled forward.

"Brilliant stuff there, Ron! Cadwallader's shot is SAVED BY GRYFFINDOR'S KEEPER who gets his fingertips to the Quaffle in time. Ah, looks like Cadwallader's backing off to let Summerby take the follow-up shot within the scoring area..."

_WHACK!_

"Bludger to Summerby's arm by Fred saves Ron from being challenged again. Loose Quaffle now picked up by Angelina as Gryffindor gets their attack going, let's go!"

Save after save, Harry puts on a performance worthy of the loudest Gryffindor cheers heard this year. Even once he's finally beaten to the hoops by Summerby and Smith, Harry's still viewed as the team's hero thus far. This, in addition to Gryffindor's Chaser assault, soon puts the game at 120-20 before Ginny narrowly beats Cedric to the Golden Snitch.

"THERE IT IS, FOLKS!" Lee Jordan shouts over the megaphone. "WHAT A DISPLAY FROM TEAM GRYFFINDOR ON THEIR 'FIRST' GAME OF THE SEASON. Ahem, er let's try to forget the mess against Slytherin... IT ENDS ON 270-20 FOLLOWING A BRILLIANT DISPLAY FROM EACH OF THOSE FLYING LIONS OUT THERE. ROUND OF APPLAUSE TO RON WEASLEY FOR HIS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING PERFORMANCE IN FRONT OF GOAL, SPECTACULAR! WHAT A LAD WE HAVE HERE, PEOPLE! Let's check the season so far... Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sitting on 270, Ravenclaw on 200 while Slytherin's bottom of the table on... 130, hehehe."

Tremendous boos echo throughout the Slytherin stands at Lee Jordan's laughter, which he ignores.

"Oh, and the next match is gonna be...wait for it... Hufflepuff against Slytherin on the 25th of January. One last chance for the Badgers to up their score and earn those House points too! Also a chance for the Snakes to get more points before our dominati— er, 'rematch' against them, yeah."

_"WEASLEY IS OUR KING, HE HARDLY LET THE QUAFFLE IN!"_

"That's what I'm talking about!" Lee Jordan soon whistles to the tune of the Gryffindor stands. "Sing it, folks, sing it."

Eager to land amidst the noise, Harry and the team swoop down before lauding one another in the locker room. Ron, meanwhile, slips off the Invisibility Cloak and joins in the celebration.

"Yeah, look at me!" he laughs. "Cheering for myself."

"Put that thing back on, damnit!" Harry swiftly covers Ron up. "Head to the room before things get awkward. See, if I can dominate like this... then what's stopping you, huh?"

"Well done, brother!" Fred, George, and Ginny each grab Harry into headlocks before rubbing their knuckles across his head.

"Aaaa! Bloody Hell!"

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia laugh at Harry's misfortunes as the trio of Weasleys continue tormenting him.

"Great performance but this is what 'Ron' deserves!" says Ginny, while continuing to rub Harry's hair. "Okay, that'll do."

Minutes later...

_"WEASLEY! WEASLEY! WEASLEY!"_

Harry finds himself perched atop the shoulders of Fred and George as dozens of Gryffindors march up the snowy slopes. This presents a much-needed opportunity for him to whistle at Nott's group scowling metres away.

"OI! WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME, TEAM NOTT THE ROT?"

"Does that include us?" asks a few lower-year Slytherins who Harry reckons are fairly decent.

"Nah, I'm talking to your insulting Quidditch team and their lackeys."

"Uh, okay, but you still suck, Weasley."

Shaking his head and laughing, Harry watches some Slytherins make their way back to the castle. This also presents a great opportunity for him to see who's willing to come to Malfoy and Nott's aid out here. As usual, Pansy and the girls remain nearby while keeping their eyes on Harry. Their expressions may be stoic, but he knows they're eager to watch Malfoy and Nott being taunted. They'd surely be missing Harry's presence in the cold dungeons these days.

"Look at him," says a sneering Nott. "Wins one school Quidditch match and Weasley thinks he owns the world. Shame, if only they got paid for these games, then I'd understand his joy."

"Paid in coins, or paid in grass for his cow of a mother to graze on?" asks Malfoy, and Harry immediately warns Fred and George to stay calm.

"They're trying to get you banned, they know you're our best Beaters," he whispers to the livid twins. "No matter what any of them do, remember that I'm already working on taking them down."

"How many twins do you reckon there actually are in that family?" asks Graham Montague. "I've heard of animals being able to push out more than two at a time. Three? Four? Five? Six?" He mimics listing names on a parchment. " _Fred, George, Squeak, Oink, Skunk, Drain Rat_... "

While the remaining Slytherins laugh, Harry grips Fred and George hard on their shoulders. "Don't—do—anything, please! You'll get your revenge when they're responsible for losing Slytherin's Cup winning streak."

"Hmm..." says a seething Fred. "We were thinking about shoving Montague into... Yeah, they'll be vilified for the rest of their years in Slytherin. Brilliant."

"Absolutely brilliant," agrees George, as the twins look up at the smirking Harry. "Fred, I want to be in that final match when we take them down fair and square on the pitch."

"Are we just going to let them insult mum like that?" asks Ginny, who sees Harry nodding slightly while whispering.

"Forget what they say. This Slytherin thinks your mum's one brilliant woman, and Nott's group are the pigs around. Don't let them goad you into losing your temper, because I need our team intact for my plan to work. Gryffindor doesn't have any better Beaters than Fred and George."

Harry now climbs down from the twins' shoulders while still whispering. "What were you saying about Montague?"

"He's a real prat and always has been, even when you were around," whispers Fred. "George and I were planning on running him through something on the first floor."

"Hey, what are you poverty-boys whispering about over there?" asks Malfoy, who's immediately ignored.

"Run him through what, exactly?" asks Harry, to which the twins explain what they know about the Vanishing Cabinet.

"We heard about it from Filch grumbling in his office, priceless that thing is," whispers George. "Filch would have someone's head if it ever got broken, or at least that's what he grumbles about at times."

"So, you're telling me there's a backdoor into Hogwarts from whenever that thing's twin is? Where exactly is its twin?" asks Harry, to which Fred shrugs.

"Dunno, never cared to look."

"Never dared to look, you mean," says George. "Nobody is mental enough to climb into something that could take you who knows where, not even us. Could be right by a dragon's nest or something. Could be a prison... could be anywhere! Or... it might not even have a twin anymore, since not every Cabinet is part of a pair, as dad once said."

"Imagine if you step out and immediately fall into lava, or a pit of spikes or something. There'd be no time to even prepare to Disapparate. But Montague, well, better if he's chucked out the school that way."

"I, er, think Ron deserves to bask in his victory," says Harry. "Think I'll go find him and—"

"Why are you so nervous?" asks Fred. "Something we said? The Cabinet, maybe?"

"Look." Harry starts backing off towards the slopes with Fred and George following him. "Voldemort's out there planning who knows what. If there's something like that Cabinet right in this school, it's a security risk."

"Security risk?" laughs George. Meanwhile, a confused group of Gryffindors stand metres away, unable to hear nor understand what the hushed conversation is about. "Come on, man, it could just be one on its own. And even if it somehow does have a twin, that could be anywhere in the world, right?"

"Right," says Harry. "But I'm not taking any chances. Not with someone as skilled and smart as the Dark Lord. Paired or not, you just never know until you've investigated."

"Man, he's more like a Ravenclaw today," says Fred.

"Ravenclaw? No, he's like Percy with this investigative attitude. Be careful you don't end up being someone's  _Weatherby_ ," says George, while Harry rolls his eyes.

Fred laughs in disbelief. "Dude, you're gonna miss out on a Gryffindor party after your performance. Forget Ron, man, and come have some fun. You sure as hell look like you need it... oh well, there he goes."

Harry hurries up the slopes and back towards the castle. Jeers of Slytherin laughter echo in the distance as they accuse him of 'fleeing like a coward.'

"Party in the common room, folks." Fred can be heard announcing to the Gryffindors as Harry rushes off. "Ron's gonna meet us all there!"

But Harry has other concerns right now while hurrying all the way towards the Room of Requirement, where Ron awaits.

"What's the deal, Harry? Thought you'd be dancing it out in the common room by now."

"You go and do that," says Harry. "Lavender seems to like you, and I think you two would make a decent couple."

"She does?" Ron gawks at Harry. "She really likes me? But how do I deal with that? I mean, she is very pretty."

"Everyone but the team thinks it was your brilliance out there today. You can be great in the air, Ronald, if you stop breaking down in terror every time. Just go party it out... and be sure to act natural. Act like you're the man, start with giving Lavender a hug if she approaches. See where things go from there."

"But it's not my talent, I'd be a fraud then... just like Lockhart! You remember that git, right? Remember how he tried to do us in outside the Chamber?"

"The difference is that Lockhart would've never been able to accomplish those feats he'd stolen from others," says Harry. "All I did today was stand-in for a performance that you're perfectly capable of doing. It's like Professor Snape having Professor Dumbledore duel on his behalf... just an example."

"Nah, for me it'd be like Filch having Dumbledore duel on his behalf."

Harry now pulls at his own red hair. "You're no squib, Ronald. Stop putting yourself down like that."

"Easy for you to say, Harry Potter. You're the one that's rich, famous, a beast in the air and a monster with your wand. Nearly everyone likes you... even Gryffindor's liking your version of me better. Hell, you're being a better me than even I can! What next? You gonna make mum actually favour me when she hears about 'my' kick arse flying skills?"

"I used your body and your broom, those were all you."

"Yeah," says Ron, "but it's still _you_ inside."

"But you've still got a loving family, still stand a chance at passing this year... not to mention that you're actually still in school... unlike me! You weren't in Azkaban and aren't seen as a murderer who's got their wand snapped." Harry starts undressing from Ron's casual wear. "So, don't try to compare the two of us. Now go have a blast and enjoy yourself."

"Yeah... yeah I guess I'll do just that, thanks."

Once Ron's off to enjoy his common room party, Harry spends the next few hours waiting for the Polyjuice potion to wear off. Then, he summons Dobby in order to request a visit to the Headmaster. As expected, Dumbledore prefers that Harry not side-along Apparate into his office and instead has Dobby relay the password to him.

"Thanks, I guess he wants to observe common decency even from me," says Harry, before throwing on his Cloak and making his way down many floors towards Dumbledore's office. He now mutters the password and reveals himself inside the Headmaster's room.

"Good afternoon, Harry, I take it you're not here to discuss Quidditch? If not for the sense of urgency in Dobby's voice, I'd have preferred that we kept our meetings to a minimum."

Harry takes his seat at Dumbledore's desk before speaking. "Yes, sir, I certainly do understand your concerns regarding the link between Voldemort and I, but this is crucial."

"Well, Professor Snape has informed me that your first Occlumency lesson with him has gone... 'sufficient', in his words. Do speak whatever's on your mind then." Dumbledore paces a slight bit while Harry explains about the Vanishing Cabinet he'd heard the twins mention. "Ah yes, it is quite a work of art, if I may say so myself."

"It is quite a security risk, sir.  _Constant Vigilance_."

"Truth be told, I'd basically forgotten about our Vanishing Cabinet. Hogwarts is remarkably big, you see." Dumbledore now takes a seat facing Harry from behind his desk. "As much as I admire your dedication to protect this school from Voldemort, there's little chance the Cabinet poses any threat. Most in existence have either lost their twins or simply do not have a partner. The odds of Hogwarts' one somehow being linked to another is miniscule, let alone one in a dangerous place. And even if those happen to be true, the odds of Voldemort finding out and exploiting it are further unlikely."

"But it's not absolutely zero percent, right? There's still  _that_  chance, and Voldemort's really desperate to kill me after I slipped away right under his nose... or lack thereof."

Dumbledore now smiles while considering something. "Harry, your unfortunate period in Azkaban has deprived you of a fair bit of information over the summer. Let's just say that Voldemort has... other priorities this year. The last thing he'd do is seek to enter this school and simply murder you now."

"What exactly have I missed out over the summer? I seem to recall Bill saying the same thing at Gringotts..."

"I cannot divulge anything to you at this point, do you understand?"

Harry nods while deciding against eye contact. "Yes, sir, Voldemort-link and all that..."

"It's clear that you're greatly concerned over our resident Cabinet, so how about we pay it a visit?" asks Dumbledore, while standing up from his seat.

"But, sir, I can't allow myself to be seen on the first floor."

"The Cabinet's in an abandoned classroom, last I remember. Therefore I will have Mr. Filch cordon off the first floor corridor while we follow-up on your suspicions."

"Thank you, sir, I just don't want anything to happen. Voldemort's killed enough people in front of me already..."

"Make your way down to the first floor, I shall be along shortly," says Dumbledore, before Harry does as told. He exits the office then heads through the gargoyle corridor before descending one floor down the grand staircase.

Still beneath his Invisibility Cloak, Harry checks the Marauder's Map for any classrooms not currently in use. Sure enough, after searching through some of them, he eventually enters a room where a large black and gold cabinet stands in a corner...

The Vanishing Cabinet.

Now he slips off his Invisibility Cloak, checks the Map to see Dumbledore chatting with Filch on the first floor landing, then approaches the Cabinet. He's never seen one before and begins to understand why nobody would suspect such an ornate piece of furniture. But the fact that Fred and George had mentioned some Vanishing Cabinets having twins proves far too risky to ignore. Harry soon opens the door to check if there's any chance this one might just have a connection...

"An unwise decision," says Dumbledore, coming from behind as the classroom door shuts. "We do not know whether this one is even linked elsewhere and, if indeed, where exactly.  _Constant vigilance_ , as you've said earlier, remember?"

"From what I've heard, sir, the only way to find out is to put something inside. But now we'd need something that would tell us where it ends up... so it'll have to be  _someone_."

"Not necessarily." Dumbledore smiles once again. "I seem to recall you mentioning your efforts in the Triwizard Maze? The part where Viktor Krum was stalking you from behind the hedge..."

"Of course!" laughs Harry. "How could I forget about that?" He now draws his wand before taking aim towards the Cabinet. " _Expecto Patronum!"_

It's been awhile since Harry's last seen his metres' worth of silvery serpent, and he therefore smiles at the slithering Patronus.

"Hey there, pal, how've you been?"

"I only come into being when you sssummon me, pal," replies the Patronus. "How've you been?"

"Crap since coming out of the hole, don't wish to go back there. Anyway, would you mind doing me a favour?" Harry now requests that his Patronus allow itself to be sent through the Cabinet.

"Yeah, sssure, let'sss do it!"

The silver serpent slithers in before Harry shuts the door and waits a good few minutes. Then he opens it to see his Patronus slithering out to hover in midair before Dumbledore and him.

"So, what's the verdict?" asks Harry.

"Thisss Cabinet doesss indeed have a twin, and it'sss a good thing you're ssso damn observant. I ended up in some place called Borgin and Burkesss, ever heard of it?"

"No," replies Harry (in Parseltongue again). "Sounds like a shop of sorts—"

"In Knockturn Alley," says Dumbledore.

"You can speak Parseltongue, sir?"

"I can understand it, yes, but not speak it." Dumbledore now looks down before stroking his beard. "And here I thought you might be overreacting to a simple piece of news from the Weasleys... but this is _most_ grave indeed. Excellent judgement today, Harry, it's a pity I can't award you any House points for this."

"Maybe..." Harry gleefully rubs his palms together. "20 When I'm back in school?"

"100 Would be more appropriate, considering what you've just uncovered. If your corporeal Patronus was capable of travelling between here and Knockturn Alley of all places..."

"Knockturn Alley's that shady zone off Diagon Alley, correct?"

Dumbledore nods at Harry's question.

"Voldemort... Death Eaters... yes I understand. And this thing just bypassed all the defensive enchantments on Hogwarts," says Harry.

"Exactly! And that is why you deserve so many House points for this. I reckon it wouldn't be long until someone else discovered this connection..."

"Oh my God!" Harry dispels his Patronus before putting his hand over his mouth.

"Something bothering you, Harry?"

"Fred and George were going to run Graham Montague through this thing...  _Montague_  of all people! He'd come back and tell those like Nott or Malfoy or whoever else. There'd surely be a Death Eater attack... and nobody here would ever be prepared for that."

"Make it 150 Points to Slytherin once you're back then. This school currently relies mainly on its staff, barring our 'esteemed' Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, for protection. But such an unexpected attack would be fatal." Dumbledore draws his wand as Harry holds his own in hand. "As pleasing as this is to the eye, we cannot allow such a major security risk to endanger the lives of so many."

"I take it we're going to destroy it, sir?"

"Preferably beyond any hint of repair, yes. And just to be safe, I'd want its twin taken care of too." Harry watches as Dumbledore again starts pacing while deep in thought. "We'll need someone to go in undercover..."

"What about Nymphadora, uh, I mean Tonks, sir? She's a metamorphmagus—"

"Precisely! Well observed again, Harry," says a smiling Dumbledore. "But I'm afraid that you're going to have to let Sirius and Tonks do this alone, with your Cloak, of course. Sirius can stay invisible while Miss Tonks poses as a customer to distract Borgin and let him be knocked out."

"I can't go with because of the Trace, right? It'd be highly suspicious if the Ministry detects magic being used around a minor in Knockturn Alley on the night it's attacked."

"Yes, you've also 'officially' just had your wand-bearing rights reinstated this month. We wouldn't want Fudge to twist some story about you raiding Knockturn Alley for Dark artefacts, hmm? Let's not forget that many minors are currently within Hogwarts grounds where the Trace doesn't count," says Dumbledore. "And those not yet at school are extremely unlikely to be in Knockturn Alley at night, if at all. You'd be the prime suspect in this event."

With everything set, Harry proceeds to cast many destructive spells alongside his Headmaster.

_"Confringo!"_  Harry blasts the Vanishing Cabinet a fair bit while Dumbledore looks on.

"Good, yes, but that leads to unwanted fires at times.  _Expulso._ "

Harry steps back as a flash of blue from Dumbledore's wand annihilates the Vanishing Cabinet. Eager to impress his Headmaster, he quickly takes aim at the scattered chunks of debris.

_"Reducto!"_

"Ah, I was hoping you'd pick up on that one." Dumbledore looks on as Harry reduces the scattered remains to ash. "That'll be enough."

"There's definitely no fixing this." Harry surveys the fine ash strewn across the floor which Dumbledore swiftly vanishes. "Well, there's definitely no fixing that."

Following this bit of destruction, Harry and Dumbledore now return to the latter's office where Phineas Nigellus is instructed to deliver a message to Sirius. Upon the portrait's return, it's revealed that Tonks would be in office until four o'clock today.

"Well, that's not much of a wait at all," says a smiling Harry, who checks his watch to see that it's nearly three anyway.

"I trust you'll keep the House Elves' bypassing of anti-Apparition Charms a secret between only those closest to you?"

"Of course, Professor."

Minutes later, Harry returns to the Room of Requirement where Dobby side-Along Apparates him to the dining room of Sirius' place.

"So, I've heard there's something that needs to be discussed between you, Tonks, and I?" asks Sirius, once Harry thanks Dobby.

"Yeah, you ever heard of Borgin and Burkes?"

He proceeds to explain about the Vanishing Cabinet linked to Hogwarts, and Sirius stands quite astonished.

"You figured all this out from _one_ idea by Fred and George?"

"When they mentioned chucking him out the school, then I got truly worried. Thank Mad-Eye for drilling  _Constant Vigilance_  into us last year. Besides, it's not like I really had anything else to do after the match."

"This'll be pretty easy considering you've got your father's Cloak, and Tonks being as special as she is." Sirius grins while rubbing his palms together. "I've always wanted to wreck some stuff in that filth of a place, too bad you can't come along for the ride."

Harry takes a seat at the table while resting his head on hands. "Couldn't you perhaps Floo into Borgin and Burkes to catch 'em off-guard?"

"We'll have to find another place to Floo from, since this house is disconnected from physical travel. Even with the Fidelius Charm protecting us, we've long since preferred closing off this fireplace. Wouldn't want the Ministry narrowing down our activities, eh? And it'll be front page news when Borgin tells people what happened to his Vanishing Cabinet."

Taking a cue from Lockhart, Harry scoffs. "Why not just wipe his memories then? Safety first."

"Someone must've seen that Cabinet while browsing his store before. It'd make even bigger news if he's asked about it and fails to remember anything at all," says Sirius. "But enough of that, how's my goddaughter doing these days?"

"I'm alright I guess— wait, what?"

Sirius folds his arms while leaning back in his chair. "Tonks told me about your little Cho Chang stunt. Gave us a hell of a lot of laughter when she visited."

They sit discussing and laughing their way over the next hour before Tonks visits at sunset. A _'pop'_ in the dining room soon announces her visit.

"Oh come on, please use the front doo— OW!" Harry finds himself grabbed into a headlock from behind his chair. "Not this again, I don't want another noogie today, aaaargh!"

"Good evening!" Tonks leans over while whispering in Harry's ear. "How's my favourite girl doing, hmm?"

"Alright, we've got work to do," says Sirius, before Tonks finally releases Harry from her hold. "Dumbledore wants us to go on a little nightly raid..."

"Let's hear it then." Tonks takes a seat as they discuss Borgin and Burkes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes I am," says Sirius.

" _Constant Vigilance_  is one thing but, Harry, this is like a mix of sheer luck and paranoia. Well spotted, though, that's some Auror-style thinking you did there. But..." Tonks leans closer while Harry remains rubbing his burning scalp. "It's a darn shame you can't tag along for some family time,  _little Black_."

"This is probably child's play for an esteemed Auror like yourself, huh, Nymphadora?" asks Harry.

Tonks glares at him with narrowed eyes as her hair turns a shade of fiery orange.

"Okay then,  _Dora_ , this is probably an easy assignment for you, eh?"

"Yes, it certainly is quite easy for someone of my talents. For another Auror, though, this'd be a bit more complicated"

Sirius' expression turns to amusement. "Walking into Knockturn Alley would be a  _lot_  more complicated for another Auror, Nymphadora."

"Not you as well!" Tonks scowls while looking from Harry on her left to Sirius on her right. "Shall we get cracking then? Let's Disapparate together from the park to Diagon Alley. Stay hidden, Sirius, until Borgin is lights out and we trash his Cabinet." She soon takes on the appearance of one shady-looking gentleman, which she's thought up herself.

"Damn, Dora!" laughs Sirius.

"Doesn't resemble anyone, really," she says while Harry grimaces at her. "Yeah, I know I'm super ugly right now."

"None more than usual," replies Harry, who sees them off down the entrance hallway before whispering. "Just joking, good luck!"

He now waits, patiently, as the minutes pass by with Sirius and Tonks having their hit-and-run fun for tonight. With little else to do, Harry soon walks up to the first floor before entering the drawing room. His eyes settle upon the sizable Black family tapestry adorned with more than a few burn marks.

_"Bellatrix_."

The name alone, coupled with a familiar face glaring from her spot on the tree, leaves Harry staring at the Death Eater. Memories of their many insults, threats, death threats, and somewhat decent conversation in Azkaban now plays through Harry's mind. He can almost hear her laughter and pounding on his cell bars. That piercing glare and heavy-lidded eyes immediately attract his attention. Those long nails, and her mischievous smile, the latter of which even reminds him of Pansy at times...

"Kreacher wonders where Master and the child of a blood traitor has gone at this hour?"

Harry turns to see the elf entering the drawing room. "Hello, Kreacher, I heard you decorated that room Sirius set up as a Christmas surprise. Thank you."

Kreacher's eyes widen as he starts muttering swiftly. "The half-blood once again talks to Kreacher like he is my friend. He stands there, bold as brass, thinking Kreacher has decorated that room for him. No, Kreacher put up the Slytherin colours in memory of the old Master. Kreacher's old Master would beat the Harry Potter boy in Quidditch."

"We'd never play against each other because we'd be on the same team, Kreacher," says Harry.

"Who is Harry Potter looking at on the tapestry?" Kreacher eyes Harry most suspiciously before turning to look up at the wall. "Why is the half-blood, son of a Mudblood, looking at my poor mistress' niece?"

"Because I met her in Azkaban."

"The half-blood boy is a murderer, much like my ungrateful swine of a Master. If my poor mistress was here to see this half-blood staring at mistress' niece..."

"She's not totally bad, we spoke for awhile in prison," says Harry. "Yes, she serves the Dark Lord, but maybe I do see Bellatrix Lestrange as my family."

"The half-blood boy thinks mistress' niece will be nice to him, oh but he is mistaken." Kreacher now turns to walk away. "He does not know how mistress' niece made the Mudbloods, blood-traitors, and scum suffer in the name of the Dark Lord. Poor mistress was so proud of her niece..."

Harry remains standing at the tapestry for over an hour before Sirius and Tonks finally return home. Both tiptoe down the hallway en route to sitting in the dining room as Harry awaits.

"So, how'd it go?" he asks.

"Absolutely brilliant!" says Sirius. "Borgin never knew what hit 'em. You should've been there to see Dora's acting, Harry."

"I came in like any shady character might: quiet, observant, and highly curious," says Tonks, sitting with a proud expression on her usual pretty face.

"The moment Borgin turned his back on us, I hit 'em swiftly with a stunner... lights out, goodnight! Wasn't it fun when we trashed that Vanishing Cabinet, huh, Tonks? Completely destroyed that thing."

"And the best part," says Tonks, "was the shop being empty and the streets outside too deserted for witnesses. We made like bandits in the night, Sirius and I, after blasting that Cabinet to dust. Then we used the Vanishing Spell to vanish the remains of the Vanishing Cabinet."

"After that, we got out of there to vanish out of sight, yeah." Sirius breathes deeply in satisfaction. "Ah, that was _loads_ of fun. Old Borgin will probably wake up sometime soon, I reckon."

"You didn't steal or break anything else, did you?" asks Harry.

Tonks nods, which lets her pink hair flick about. "Yeah, we had to smash at least one other thing so as not to make it too suspicious that the Cabinet was targeted."

"So, what have you been doing in the meantime?" asks Sirius.

"Checked out the family tree again, yes, I know you despise it," says Harry. "Wasn't much else to do, anyway."

"Why don't you stay for the night?" asks Tonks. "Since you're so family-minded, hmm? No funny business though, mister, and you still can't see your surprise room until Christmas."

"Because it's a surprise," says Sirius. "Or at least it was supposed to be."

Beaming with a smile, Harry stretches out before spending the rest of this evening in the company of Sirius and Tonks. They crack jokes, swap stories and discuss all manner of things... except that Harry keeps his thoughts on Bellatrix Lestrange well hidden for the night. _Very_ well hidden, in fact.

 


	14. Slithering Snake

December steadily moves ahead as Harry continues with his revision and Occlumency lessons. But even he's aware of just how far behind he is with regular fifth-year coursework, regardless of Hermione's efforts to assist.

The D.A. meetings also gradually decrease in pace until the final one on Wednesday, the 18th of December. Since most of the school's headed home for Christmas anyway, Harry feels that it's pointless to continue until next year. Once the final meeting concludes, everyone wishes one another well for the holidays as two students stay behind in the Room of Requirement.

"I'm scared for you, Harry," says Hermione, on Wednesday evening, "scared that you'll be stuck in fifth-year next year. All of us would've moved on to N.E.W.T. subjects while you're battling for O.W.L.s, I simply cannot stand the thought of that."

"Stop stressing, I'll be fine," says Harry, who once again lays across her lap as she studies in the Room of Requirement. "You worry far too much."

"And you worry far too little!" Hermione looks down upon him with tears in her eyes. "You're so dedicated to your anti-Pureblood Quidditch crusade that you're not attending as many classes as before. Whatever happened to using all that Polyjuice on actually attending lessons every so often?"

"Nobody cares if I fail anyway, assuming I'd even get to come back this year. Look at me, the laughing stock of the school."

"Don't you realise just how much effort I'm putting in to try and help you?" asks Hermione. "Haven't you noticed me no longer knitting all those hats for the House Elves?"

"I didn't ask to stand in the way of your S.P.E.W. crusade, Hermione. Feel free to ditch me and carry on knitting well past midnight, on most nights."

"I'd sooner die than ditch you, Mister Potter."

Harry looks up to see Hermione's brown eyes scanning across bits of text. Not even the tears welling up in her eyes can distract her from reading. But the splash of drips hitting her book sends a sharp pang through Harry's chest.

"Tell me," he says softly, in the hopes of having Hermione's smile return. "Do you still remember which books I'm in?"

Her cheeks turn a deep shade of red. "Oh, Harry,  _Modern Magical History_..."

" _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,_ " says Harry, while looking into Hermione's eyes as she begins to smile.

" _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century._ " Her eyes glance over the boy resting so comfortably on her lap. "Best wizarding events is what I'd call it, not that I'm saying it's nice that your parents were killed. Wait, I can't believe I just put  _nice_ in a sentence involving your mum and dad getting—"

"Hermione,"—Harry caresses her knee—"it's alright, calm down, I know what you're trying to say. So, remind me how you felt doing that background reading on me before coming to school?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Hermione sets her book aside before slowly stroking her fingers through Harry's hair. "Forever sticking up almost like a porcupine. A porcupine with glasses."

"Well then, you're a sweet scented herb."

"Aw, thank you."

"Porcupines are herbivorous."

"So very funny," says Hermione, while lightly grabbing a fistful of Harry's front bangs.

"Did it excite little you reading all about the Boy-Who-Lived? Admit it, you were a big fangirl of me."

Hermione smiles while looking down upon the grinning Harry. "Nope, sorry, that would be Ginny."

"And when you finally saw me on the train you thought..." Harry puts on a feminine voice, similar to a younger Hermione. "Oooooh I've so gotta get to know that dreamy boy, I've so gotta get in his trousers."

"Oh, excuse me?"

Harry laughs as she pulls harder on his hair. "You are excused, Miss Granger. Yank my hair, yes."

"Actually," laughs Hermione, "you seem to be deluding yourself to the truth, Mister Potter. What really happened was me checking the train for Neville's toad... before eventually stumbling across one compartment. And who was in there, I wonder?"

"A handsome devil," says Harry, frowning as Hermione shakes her head.

"A little lonely train compartment boy, that's what." She flashes a smile once again. "So... ha-ha, in your face! But you are handsome, now don't let this further inflate your big ego."

"You know how many times I've been told that by Pansy? I miss her, though."

"She's a lot happier now that she knows you're around," says Hermione. "Haven't seen her smile in class until you dropped her hints that Mister King of Slytherin is back."

"Yeah well," Harry yawns rather widely before shutting his eyes, "I'll show myself when the time's right. How long are you planning on studying anyway?"

"Three more hours should do it for tonight, and I'm not slacking off even if Friday's the end of term. You can sleep on my lap if you'd like, just don't snore."

"I never snore." Harry feels the embrace of sleep closing in as he mumbles to Hermione. "You're a bore... a bore that I adore..."

Everything appears pitch black for Harry... the sounds of a slithering snake echo in the darkness. A hissing of the tongue can be heard... a scream of agony fills the void. But now, for a fleeting moment, the darkness clears to a familiar cold, dark corridor. Then it all turns black again, as quickly as he'd seen himself in wherever this place happens to be—

Pain sears through his scar as Harry awakes to see a terrified girl kneeling beside him. He's no longer on her lap but instead writhing on the floor, sweating profusely.

"WAKE UP!" shouts Hermione, who's standing with the Invisibility Cloak in hand. "We have to get you to Professor Dumbledore's office right away! What kind of bad dream have you had this time? Was it the graveyard haunting you again? Was it... Azkaban? You look positively sick right now."

"I heard a scream, Hermione, that's most of what I remember. Can't say I saw anything much, either, probably a glimpse of..."

"Of what? What did you see?" Hermione grabs Harry as he gets to his feet. "I've never seen you sleep _this_ terribly before. You were screaming and—"

"Ron's dad."

"What?"

"I think I heard Ron's dad... that's who I heard screaming. Then there was that weird corridor place I sometimes dream of since the holidays... what exactly is going on with me?" Harry lets Hermione slip the Cloak over him as they exit the Room of Requirement.

"You're asking me?" she whispers. "Try to think: have you ever been in that corridor place?"

"That's the thing," whispers Harry, as they begin descending the grand staircase. "Why am I dreaming of someplace I've never ever been to? Wait a minute... could this be..."

"Explain quickly before we're in the silent corridors, Harry."

"Professor Snape warned me about Voldemort possibly uncovering this connection. What if this is some kind of Legilimency he's decided to use on me?"

"You said one needs eye contact for that, and Voldemort's not exactly in this school." Hermione leads the way beneath Harry's Cloak as they traverse the second floor. "My only guess is this has something to do with your scar, and by the looks of it... you're in agony, right?"

"Yeah, it's burning like hell right now."

By the time they reach the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, Harry summons Dobby to request permission to enter.

"Must've changed the bloody password again," mutters Harry, before the gargoyle allows them passage into this office. Wasting no time, the pair immediately throw off the Cloak before rushing up to a pensive Dumbledore sitting behind his desk. Their explanations kept swift and to the point.

"Where were you positioned when you watched this attack happen?" asks Dumbledore, while Harry's the one now pacing up and down this office.

"It was all too dark for me to see... just caught a brief glimpse of Mr. Weasley, I think, laying on the floor. Can't recall anything other than that and his scream."

"You said you heard a slithering snake?" asks Dumbledore. "Where did you hear it?"

"Like I said, sir, everything was pitch black for most of the dream. But the hissing and slithering sounded...  _everywhere_  I guess. It's like it filled the darkness completely. And I—" Harry pauses as he suddenly feels a great urge to attack his Headmaster. "No, I won't do it."

"Do what?" asks a wide-eyed Hermione. "Harry, what are you talking about now?"

He shuts his eyes and battles to clear his panicking, raging mind in this office. "I'm getting this urge to lash out... at Professor Dumbledore."

"Those are not your emotions, use your Occlumency," says Dumbledore, who stands up to fiddle about with some silver instruments which Harry cares little for. "Essence divided, eh? Interesting." He then has Fawkes scout the castle and relay a signal should Umbridge notice anything amiss.

Still seated nearby, Hermione looks from a focused Harry to a thoughtful Dumbledore. The latter now directing a few portraits to raise the alarm in search of wherever Mr. Weasley happens to be.

"Professor, is Harry being...  _possessed_  right now?"

"That's a rather blunt way of putting it, Miss Granger." Although his tone be stern, Dumbledore smiles nonetheless before looking at Harry. "I believe the reason your dream was so vivid and yet so unclear... so dark ... is that you've been putting your Occlumency to use... Harry?"

Hermione groans before tapping the shut-eyed boy on his shoulder. "The Professor's talking to you... hello? Those portraits are in search of Mister Weasley, so it's going to be alright! You're focusing far too hard and not listening to us right now."

"I think..." Harry sighs a slight bit while seated before Dumbledore's desk. "I think the pain's mostly gone. I'm sorry, sir, but I have been practicing everything Professor Snape's taught me. This dream, though, how could it just force its way through? I did put up some Occlumency before sleeping on...well... ahem, Hermione's lap." He adds the last part rather swiftly, feeling quite a heat rising in his cheeks.

"Perhaps the connection is stronger than you'd anticipated," says Dumbledore. "I wouldn't be conveying this much if I wasn't confident in your abilities, Harry. But it's good to know you are making it extremely difficult for Voldemort to enter your mind. Three lessons in and Professor Snape seems to think your efforts are acceptable. But this link, well, let's just say that it's more than simple Legilimency that we're dealing with here."

"It sounds like Voldemort's trying to break into your mind, isn't it?" asks Hermione to a nodding Harry. "But what is he trying to do? No offense, but it's not like you've got any top secret info on whatever's going on. You barely even know what's happening these days besides your Quidditch crusade."

"A very useful endeavour that Voldemort would truly find a waste of time," says Dumbledore. "No wonder Tom's not putting too much effort into manipulating Harry. I doubt he cares much for who catches the Snitch or scores the next goal. He never even bothered with Quidditch in his time, a 'frivolous distraction' as he once told me."

Harry immediately beams with a smile. "Tom Riddle never played Quidditch? Truly?"

"Well," says Hermione, "That's to be expected, hmm? Wouldn't have been of any use to his current occupation. Oh, come on. Now you're going to get all smug because you're good at something Voldemort hasn't done."

"Me: 1, Tom: 0, he can suck on it—"

"Dumbledore!" shouts one of the paintings whom the Headmaster had sent to investigate.

"Any news?"

It's soon apparent that Arthur Weasley had just recently been gravely wounded at the Ministry, and that he's being moved to St. Mungo's.

"The Ministry?" asks Harry, who's never been there before. "Could that be where this mysterious corridor I'm dreaming about is?"

"Perhaps, but you do understand why I'm rather hesitant to reveal too much at this point?"

"Yes, sir," says Harry, showing his usual respect for a great wizard. "But, say I do improve even further in my private lessons... would you tell me just a bit more?"

"All you should know is that Voldemort is after something that he hopes to use against you. And, for your sake, it's best not to go searching for it yourself. These visions are coming for a reason, Harry, please take a moment to consider them."

"It's always the exact same corridor that I feel a tremendous urge to get through... to get past this door that's forever closed at its end."

"So," says Hermione, "Voldemort's in search of something within the Ministry of Magic. Something that's making him try to get into Harry's mind?"

"Your speculations are fairly solid, Miss Granger." Dumbledore smiles at the pair of students. "However, I'd focus on my fifth-year if I were you, a very crucial year this can be for either of you two. Harry, rest assured that we are still working towards getting you back. The legalities and debates are constantly being postponed by those siding with Cornelius Fudge."

"Typical!" scoffs Harry. "Just typical of them."

"I'm sure Miss Granger will have you catching up to your coursework in due time," says Dumbledore, even as Hermione stands visibly nervous. "Both of you are rather sharp students, remarkably similar to a pair from years ago."

"Who, sir?" asks Harry, while standing up from his seat.

"So I believe that, with a bit more effort, you'll have a decent understanding of fifth year, Harry." Dumbledore now looks at Hermione. "At least you are kind enough not to charge him for your tuition."

"I won't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind, sir," says Hermione. "Since he's always so smug over his wealth."

"Now, Miss Granger, I'd like you to wake the Weasleys then bring them and Professor McGonagall to my office. Be quick, since Professor Umbridge is bound to spot you out during curfew."

Once Hermione's left the room, Dumbledore has Harry take a seat while watching him.

"Still feeling the urge to attack me?"

"No, sir, I'm not in the mood for suicide."

They sit in silence while Dumbledore sends Phineas Nigellus to inform Sirius of tonight's guests. Then the Headmaster creates a Portkey for the group to travel to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

"We need to be quick," says Dumbledore. "I'd rather Professor Umbridge not discover your role in saving Arthur Weasley. If so, then your connection with Voldemort might become public knowledge..."

"And that is absolutely unacceptable," says Harry, while Dumbledore nods most agreeably. "Far too many risks involved with that. Fudge would have a field day spewing theories and accusations against me."

"Not to mention that the Ministry would seek to investigate this link. At times, their methods may be questionable as not everything is known to the public. I'd never wish to place you in such grave danger, Harry."

"I never have and probably never will trust this Ministry." Harry soon turns to see the door opening to a most dishevelled and shocked group of siblings. Their eyes dart from an equally surprised Professor McGonagall to Dumbledore before, eventually, settling upon Harry himself.

Before anyone else can speak, Dumbledore briefly explains tonight's events. This is followed by Fawkes' warning: a flash of flame sending a golden feather floating to the floor. Immediately, Dumbledore ushers the group towards their Portkey as they are taken to Sirius' place in London. Seconds into their arrival in the basement kitchen, Harry spots Sirius and Kreacher having another verbal row nearby.

"Is it true the blood traitors are going to lose their father?"

"YOU'D BETTER GET—"

Harry already feels extremely guilty for distracting Hermione from her S.P.E.W. campaign. Therefore, since she's right beside him, he swiftly runs towards Sirius.

"That's enough, leave Kreacher alone."

"Wha—?"

"We've got other priorities at hand," says Harry, who lets Kreacher walk away while grumbling as usual. "Quit picking on the elf, man, he's just talking from how he's conditioned."

"But why defend that piece of dirt?" asks Sirius, as the Weasleys stand quizzically around Harry.

"Get angry at him all you want but it's not going to change his outlook on life. You're just wasting your time and energy screaming at the poor guy." Harry now recounts the dream he's had which soon ends up in a heated exchange between Sirius and the twins.

"This is our dad we're talking about!" shouts Fred. "We need to get to St. Mungo's right now!"

"And then the whole damn world will know Harry's got some kind of mental link with Voldemort," mutters Sirius. "We have to wait until your mother's informed by the hospital of Arthur's arrival. It makes sense that way and wouldn't bring any risk to the Order."

George wholeheartedly agrees with his twin as they scream in the kitchen. "WE DON'T CARE ABOUT THE STUPID ORDER!"

"And that's exactly why you're  _not_ in the Order," retorts Sirius, while blocking the Weasleys from rushing through the doorway. "Your father wouldn't want you screwing things up for us all! It's bad enough that Harry's seen as a murderer and all that rubbish, last thing we need is to drag Dumbledore down with him."

"How easy for you to say." Fred's cheeks appear deeply reddened. "What exactly have you been doing for the Order in here, eh? Free man or not, you spend all day locked up in this house!"

"I could go out if I'd like," says Sirius. "The Ministry wouldn't do a thing, yeah... and then Voldemort would have me snatched up in no time."

"Why's that?" asks Ginny. "I'd have thought you'd be desperate to leave this horrible house?"

"Private information, kids." Sirius briefly looks at the twins. "If you were more mature, then the Order might perhaps share them with you. _We don't care about the stupid Order_ , who do you think you are?"

"ARTHUR WEASLEY'S SON!" bellows Fred and George. "THE MAN WHO'S FATALLY WOUNDED AND CURRENTLY IN HOSPITAL."

"Ow, my ears..." mutters Harry, while Hermione partially cups them with her warm hands. "Thank you."

"Thank you for saving Ron's dad—" Hermione's statement is drowned out by the continuing argument nearby.

"Sitting on my arse all day long?" asks Sirius, before giving a drawn out laugh. "Thanks to my godson—who's just SAVED your father's life—picking up on your Montague plan, Hogwarts is one massive bit safer now. But you probably don't realise that, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" asks Ron, who's finally decided to speak. "We're bloody wasting time over here. Move so we can get dressed warmer, or we'll make you move out the way. Otherwise we'll just side-along Apparate in our pyjamas to St. Mungo's right now!"

Sirius draws his wand as the twins and Ron pull out their own. "Remember the Cabinet you two wanted to run that Slytherin in?"

"What about it?" asks an impatient Fred.

"Bet you don't know that Dumbledore and Harry pretty much utterly destroyed it... and guess when?"

"GET OUT THE WAY!"

"Shut it, Ron," says Sirius. "They destroyed it on the same day mentioned by that article in the  _Daily Prophet_. Do you recall the story about the mysterious raid on Borgin and Burkes? Someone"—He grins—"went in and trashed the place. A few items were destroyed... including a Vanishing Cabinet. You twins are smart, so use your brains."

"Wait a minute." Hermione rubs Harry's ears before letting go and walking towards Sirius at the doorway. " _You_  did that?"

"Tonks and I, yes," whispers Sirius. "Metamorphmagus, remember? The article said Borgin last saw a grotesque individual perusing his shop before Borgin was attacked. Who here in this kitchen owns a splendid Invisibility Cloak, huh?"

All eyes turn to Harry who nods. "There you have it, folks. Not only have I saved your father's life but also the entire school as well. I ran straight for the Room, until being myself again, before heading to Dumbledore's office. Sent my Patronus through the Vanishing Cabinet which told me where he'd gone. Then, Dumbledore and I annihilated that Cabinet before leaving its twin to be taken care of after sunset."

He shakes his head in disbelief before continuing:

"There was a backdoor, straight through the castle's many enchantments, into Hogwarts from bloody Knockturn Alley, den of the scum."

"Still think I've done nothing for the Order?" asks Sirius to the Weasleys. "Imagine what would've happened if the Death Eaters... and/or Voldemort himself... snuck into Hogwarts after bedtime?"

"You"—Harry looks at Hermione standing before him—"would've been a dead Muggleborn."

"Why didn't you tell any of us? Everyone thought it was a Death Eater or Ministry raid or something?" asks Hermione.

"Funny how I'm so useful to the school after I'm expelled," says Harry.

"That's not funny." Hermione zips up Harry's hoodie, as he's now feeling a bit chilly. "That was brilliant. Very brilliant."

"You kids calmed down yet?" asks Sirius, while eyeing the siblings. "Look, your father's in the best care possible at this point. If it wasn't for Harry's timely dream-vision-thing then they'd have found Arthur's corpse later... or tomorrow. So at least it hasn't come to that. Now, why don't we all have a drink so long?  _Accio Butterbeer!"_

Harry sees the Weasleys looking his way as half a dozen drinks fly into the room. "There's no need to thank me any further, really."

"First it was Ginny in the Chamber," says Fred.

"Now dad in the Ministry," adds George.

"Let's not forget saving Ron from a feral maniac black dog in school," says Harry, while looking at his godfather.

"Oh ha-ha  _amusing_." Sirius has the group sit down as drinks are served. "I think the correct statement would be 'saving Ron from a traitorous, murderous rat.'"

Ginny smiles as she elbows Ron in the side. "Doesn't sound very threatening, does it? Shame."

"Well"—Ron barely swallows his mouthful of Butterbeer before carrying on—"Someone ought to save Percy from his big-headed, brown-nosing, Ministry arse-kissing self someday, yeah."

Minutes pass by in silence as Hermione places her hand atop Harry's cold one on the table. Their transfer of warmth comes as a relief to both of them.

"How are you feeling?"

"With my hands."

Ginny nearly spits out her mouthful of drink before frowning. "Doesn't he ever take anything seriously?"

"I was pretty serious when I killed the Basilisk." Harry turns to see Hermione rest her head on his shoulder. "I'm trying to control my emotions, to discipline my mind. But it's a lot easier said than done, so excuse me if I seem emotionally dead for awhile."

A flash of fire soon illuminates the dim room as Fawkes brings a letter from Mrs. Weasley, who's currently with her husband in hospital. He's still alive, but these words only serve to heighten the growing sense of dread in the kitchen. As per Mrs. Weasley's orders, the group has little choice but to remain here overnight. And it's a terribly long one indeed for everyone, including Harry who remains deep in thought:

_I've saved him, I've done good, I've stopped Voldemort from taking another life. This isn't the graveyard, this isn't Alyssa..._

"Emotionally dead, eh?" asks Hermione, her voice a soothing whisper in the silence. "And yet you're smiling, Harry."

_Of course I'm smiling, you loveable girl_. He looks her in the eye while still in thought, and eventually starts falling asleep with head in arms on the table. Soft hands stroke the back of his sweaty hair as Hermione removes his glasses for comfort. Hopefully, there'll be no visions nor anything odd with a much-needed night's rest...

"... so he's going to be alright," says a woman's voice in the distance, as Harry's eyes slowly open. "Your father's sleeping, we can all go and see him later. Bill and that colleague of his are sitting with Arthur now."

It's Mrs. Weasley's voice, as far as Harry can tell while squinting up from his arms. A blurry mix of faces and firelight now greet him in the early hours of morning.

"Harry's... awake," says a yawning Ginny. "Lucky him, getting to sleep while we're all worried sick."

"He deserved some rest" says Hermione. "If it weren't for Harry then, well, I'd rather not think about it."

"Put his glasses on already, dear," says Mrs. Weasley. "Let him at least see us as we thank him."

Harry loses count of the amount of hugs and handshakes he receives after getting up from his seat. But if there's one thing that widens his grin, it's being hailed as a 'blessing to the family' by Mrs. Weasley.

"I only wish you'd have known us much sooner," she says. "But we understand how difficult it must've been during those first two years of school for you. At least you're now in better company than those snobbish boys who've given you a hard time."

"Alright!" declares Sirius. "Now that our boy's awake, how about some breakfast? Where is that damn, accursed—"

A poke to the side has Harry seeing Hermione looking up at him.

"Sirius, I'm really not in the mood for this right now."

"For what?" Sirius looks across the table at his narrow-eyed godson.

"Bullying and barking insults at Kreacher."

"This again?"

Harry knows that his godfather would never lose his temper with him, even when their opinions differ this much. He therefore calls him aside to have a hushed chat in the corner of the kitchen.

"I still don't understand why you keep on defending that thing. He mocks you and Hermione's blood status, remember? The Weasleys for their life choices too!" says Sirius.

"What were you about to yell at Kreacher when we arrived?"

"I was about to chase him out the kitchen, yeah. Not like he's any good with cooking... or at least he sucks ever since I'm his Master, git of an elf," mutters Sirius.

"You know, I had a look at the family tapestry the other day and remembered that Narcissa Malfoy is actually family of ours, almost forgot."

"What does that have to do with our conversation?"

"Everything." Harry straightens up while ignoring the curious looks from the rest of the kitchen at this hushed discussion. "The Malfoys mistreated Dobby, and he came to assist... if you can call it that... me back in second year. Professor Dumbledore has also once mentioned that it'd be unwise to constantly belittle a House Elf. He told me that when I asked why Dobby would contradict Lucius Malfoy's plans with the Chamber of Secrets."

"So, you're saying I have to be nice to Kreacher or else he'll contradict my plans? I don't have any plans, really."

"House Elves are funny creatures at times," says Harry. "With how desperate Kreacher is to serve someone else, I'm sure he'd twist your  _get the hell out_  order to leave this house. Would you like him running off and spilling the beans to Narcissa Malfoy, née Black?"

"Man, what are sermon." Sirius whistles before chuckling. "It's clear Snivellus is your Head of House. Look, this place is under the protection of the Fidelius Charm and there's no damn Peter to ruin things here. Even if Kreacher went running off, there's not much he could do to cause any damage. He can't tell Narcissa about the house nor its location nor can she even consider it, since the charm affects one's thoughts too. I think you're being a bit too paranoid, Harry."

"Yeah, and what happened last time I was paranoid? Even the Headmaster missed that Vanishing Cabinet backdoor... from friggen Knockturn Alley!"

"Hey, Sirius," says Ron. "Quit lecturing Harry and get us breakfast already before mum has to end up making it. She's exhausted."

"Um," Hermione nudges Ron in the side. "I don't think Sirius is the one doing the lecturing over there."

"So," says Sirius," I'm basically like a hostage forced to put up with that insulting thing's existence? Do you have any idea what that's like?"

"Yep, I sure do." Harry smiles while folding his arms. "I had to put up with Professor Snape and his snide remarks for all these years in Potions, his office, and the common room. That's similar to you and Kreacher... sort of. You know what I mean."

"Damn," sighs Sirius, "well... don't expect me to be nice to this brainwashed slime ball."

"I don't expect you to be nice to him. But I do expect you to know what's the best course of action regarding an already angry House Elf. If happy Dobby turned on the Malfoys, well, I'd rather not think of what Kreacher might do if given the opportunity here."

Once their private discussion ends, Harry and Sirius return to the kitchen table where the latter summons Kreacher.

"Breakfast, Kreacher."

"Master demands breakfast for him, this Mudblood, and these blood traitor friends?"

Ron stands up from his seat. "Don't you dare—"

"Quiet, Ronald," says Harry, who now stands at his chair while looking at Kreacher. "That would be very much appreciated, yes, Kreacher. We'd all love to have something to eat this morning."

"Now the Master's filthy half-blood godson demands food too? But Kreacher must serve, very well."

Harry smiles at the hurt looks coming his way from Sirius and the Weasleys. "Thank you, Kreacher. But this filthy half-blood standing here is in Slytherin, remember? Surely that has to count for something?"

Grumbling, Kreacher walks to the far end of the room where he begins making the group some breakfast.

"That ungrateful little elf, insulting you based on mere blood," whispers Mrs. Weasley, while her children gawk at Harry.

"Stand up for yourself, man! Why'd you call yourself  _filthy_?" asks Ginny. "We don't think there's anything wrong with you at all."

"People," Harry rolls his eyes at the barrage of sympathy sent his way. "I know how to handle certain types, remember that I  _was_  in Azkaban."

Murmurs of agreement, and looks of sadness, come his way once again. Now Harry lowers his voice while leaning on the table.

"How do you think I spent three months in the same building with people like Sirius' cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange? Oh, whatever," Harry rolls his eyes at the collective gasp across the table, "Yes, I know what she's done."

"That woman is nothing but the vilest of sorts in this world," whispers Mrs. Weasley. "I hope she stays in jail for life or, if not, someone does her in."

_I like her, and nobody's 'doing Bellatrix in' on my watch_ , says Harry to himself, but he smiles nonetheless before speaking. "So, I take it everyone's going to rest up before we visit Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, dear," says Mrs. Weasley. "You can rest up a bit more if you'd like."

The rest of the morning sees nearly everyone fast asleep after a night spent in harrowing dread. At lunchtime, the group dress as Muggles for their trip to St. Mungo's with Moody and Tonks set to escort them via the Underground.

"So, Harry," says Tonks, sitting beside him on the train. "Whatever vision that was seems dead useful. You sure there's no Seer blood in your family? Oh, but then again you saw the _present_ which is weird."

Harry barely gets off a nod before Moody pats him hard on the shoulder.

"That was some excellent vigilance with the Cabinet, Potter, excellent! Good to see you're still putting what I taught you to good use. See? And here people were poking fun at  _Constant Vigilance_  last year, bet they don't even know their school's much safer now." Moody now frowns a slight bit. "Dumbledore told me about your new wand, hope you know what you're doing."

"I sure do, Professor."

"Come off it, I ain't teaching no more," says Moody, before giving a slight laugh. "Was fun while it lasted, though."

Moody and Harry both keep their hands clutched around their pocketed wands as the train soon reaches the heart of London. Tonks eyes the pair to see Harry constantly shifting his gaze across the carriage while Moody, with his tipped bowler hat concealing his magical eye, does the same.

"The little lad sure is learning from you eh, Mad-Eye? So cute."

"Death Eater attacks could happen at a moment's notice, or no notice at all," growls Moody. "We need to be prepared!"

"Stupid Trace and rules my arse," mutters Harry. "If they attack then I'm fighting back, big time."

"Good laddie, yes," replies a nodding Moody. "Ministry's got plenty of undercover folks ready to  _Obliviate_  any witnessing Muggles, should the need arise."

Fortunately, nothing amiss happens as Sirius leads the group out to the bustling streets of London. It's a fairly short walk before they reach the closed storefront which is used to transport them to a crowded  hospital reception area. Here, witches and wizards sporting all manner of ailments sit upon rows of wooden chairs. Healers, wearing lime-green robes, walk along the rows gathering information on their clipboards.

"Quickly, before you're seen," says Sirius, ushering Harry to Mrs. Weasley standing in line at the _Enquiries_ desk. Looking around, Harry sees various signs directing one to the appropriate floor per nature of ailment. The entire building feels similar, and yet different, when compared to an average Muggle hospital.

"Too late." He finds himself being pointed out and discussed by many witches and wizards capable of conversation. Those ignoring him tend to be too caught up in their own ailments, some of which include badly Transfigured body parts, spells gone horribly wrong, etc.

Mrs. Weasley's group soon reach the desk where they're directed to the first floor, second door on its right. She now leads them down a few corridors before climbing a flight of stairs to enter the first floor passageway.

" _Creature-Induced Injuries,_ " reads Sirius, as the group searches for Mr. Weasley's ward.

"Yeah," says Harry, "and if you don't play nice with a certain House Elf then you'll have Kreacher-induced injuries, I'm sure."

"Hahaha! Very funny," laughs Sirius, while Hermione looks wide-eyed at their little joke. "He can try."

"I hope the  _Daily Prophet_  doesn't write an article about you being here," whispers Hermione in Harry's ear. "I can only imagine how they'd twist that story."

"Let's just focus on getting to Mr. Weasley," says Harry. "Family would probably want to go into the ward first, though."

Indeed, the Weasleys head in first, while Harry, Sirius, Tonks, Moody, and Hermione wait outside.

"Backs to the wall," says Moody, "gives a better view of the corridor."

Tonks sighs. "Oh give it a rest, Mad-Eye. We're in a secure hospital, and we're a big group sticking together." She then softly laughs as Harry stands against the wall while gripping his pocketed wand. "Look at you, acting all Dark-wizard catcher and stuff."

"Yeah, I'm on the lookout for my followers."

"Not funny, Harry," sighs Hermione, who stands beside him while grasping her pocketed wand. "Stop saying things like that."

"No need to stand outside, Harry," says Mrs. Weasley. "Come inside with the family."

Before he can respond, Harry's taken into the small, dingy-looking ward (containing three patients) by Mrs. Weasley. His mind once again racing with thoughts:

_Well, it's only fair since I did just save this man_. _I saved him, yes, he didn't die. Voldemort didn't get this one too, like he killed other people... teenagers. Mr. Weasley wasn't killed like someone in the graveyard, and he's back with his family, yes. Not taken away on a stretcher after the Triwizard Tournament and—_

"Harry? You there?" asks Mrs. Weasley, "Arthur was just telling us how Bill and that French colleague of his had to return to work before we got here. These injuries won't stop bleeding until the Healers find an antidote to this venom, though. Are you alright?"

"Huh? What?" Harry takes a moment to snap out of his musings as he finds himself seated on a chair between the Weasley children. He'd been staring blankly at the beaming Mr. Weasley right through the latter's praises and thanks. "Sorry, been caught up in some thoughts."

Mr. Weasley smiles. "It's alright, Molly, Harry's probably just shaken from all this. I mean it's not every day that someone... well... you know. Better not say it in public."

"Where were you when this attack occurred?" asks Harry, to which Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron all eagerly lean forward to listen.

Although Mr. Weasley's still beaming with a smile at Harry, he shakes his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell anyone about that, standing orders."

Try as they might, neither Fred nor George are able to get anything out of their father with regards to his mysterious duties last night. Their curiosity soon earns them a swift ushering out the door by Mrs. Weasley before Sirius, Moody, and Tonks enter the ward.

"Well?" asks Hermione, who's standing in the mostly-empty hospital corridor, "Any news relating to Mr. Weasley's duties?"

"Nope," says Fred, who soon pulls out and sticks a strange ear-like object on the door, its other end given to Harry.

"What in hell? Whose are these?" asks Harry, "The heck—"

"Fred and George's Extendable Ears, mate!" says Ron, "Oh, right, you weren't with us over the summer, sorry. They allow us to listen in through things like doors."

The twins pass enough Extendable Ears around for each of the group to listen in on whatever's being discussed. As expected, the whispers are vague and hardly give any clues, except that Mr. Weasley had been stationed somewhere top-secret. It's suggested that Voldemort possibly sent his serpent as a lookout, and that Dumbledore seems to have almost been waiting for Harry to experience such a vision.

"So, Potter's not sure about the details of his vision, right?" asks Moody, "There's something funny going on if he's getting these things even with Snape teaching him Occlumency."

"What if Harry's not practicing hard enough?" asks Mrs. Weasley, "But Dumbledore said this might be 'different' than simple Legilimency."

"Far as I can tell, Dumbledore wouldn't give a straight answer when asked if Voldemort's possibly possessing Harry," says Sirius, "And when Dumbledore starts beating around the bush... then it's usually not a good sign."

"I'm not saying You-Know-Who's controlling Potter or anything, but you've got to question that bright green image of the Killing Curse," says Moody. "You know, when Bartemius did the Incantato end of last school year? I sure as hell haven't been letting the students practice any Unforgivables. Just showed 'em once, except for  _Imperio_  which they had to constantly fend off. Come to think of it... Potter hasn't had any mental training back then and yet he picked up very quickly how to resist being controlled."

Tonks whispers next. "You're not suggesting that... that Harry's being influenced to the point where he's getting some of You-Know-Who's skills or something, are you? There's just  _no way_  that boy's evil, no way. Sirius, surely you'd know by now that Harry's not some up-and-coming Dark Lord?"

"I fully agree, Dora."

"Come off it already!" says Moody, "That's not what I said. We just need to be vigilant and that's what I'm doing,  _speculating_."

"Why do you think Dumbledore worked so hard to get Harry out of Azkaban as quickly as possible?" asks Sirius. "Besides the obvious reasons of dementors and all that, there's also the fact that Harry's been in contact with my cousin. And I'm not talking about Narcissa nor Andromeda."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," says a gasping Mrs. Weasley. "Yes, Harry had mentioned her just this morning."

"How many times has Harry had to endure that witch's presence?" asks Mr. Weasley. "Must've been a tremendous ordeal for the poor boy."

It's only now that Harry sees the group outside staring at him as they all remain eavesdropping via the Extendable Ears. He gives a tight-lipped smile, though he knows there's some explaining to do. Meanwhile, Moody can be heard whispering next:

"Is there anyone else who spoke with Potter in there?"

"No," says Sirius, "Harry said the other Death Eaters never bothered with him, probably too busy planning on how to kill him. Bellatrix, though, you know what she's like. Plays with her prey before finishing the job..."

"And yet Potter never even flinched when Lestrange was outside his cell, did he?" asks Moody. "You remember when we went to pick him up? Lestrange was standing outside like they'd had a big, fat chat or something. She even said they were ' _just talking and exchanging insults._ ' How much do we really know about what's going on in Potter's head?"

"I'm not throwing any accusations towards Harry but..." Tonks sighs. "When we came in, Lestrange acknowledged Sirius, me, and even Harry as family, yeah. What did she call him now again?"

" _Baby Potter_ ," replies Sirius, with clear distaste in his voice, "Well, she knows I'm his godfather, so that's that. And she said 'see you soon', which we can assume means Voldemort's planning on breaking them out of prison sometime."

"The more hands he's got, the bigger the risk to Harry's... you know... down in the Department of—"

"Shhh, Arthur!" says Mrs. Weasley, "Whisper or not, we shouldn't even mention that place."

"Anyway, how long until those wounds heal?" asks Moody, whose change of topic has the group outside pulling off their Extendable Ears.

"Why didn't you tell us you were getting on with Bellatrix Lestrange?" asks Ron, as Harry moves to stand at the wall facing the ward's doors.

"I did mention her this morning, didn't I?"

"You didn't say that you actually  _spoke_  with her," says Fred. "What's the deal, Harry? What are you hiding from us?"

"We've followed you and Hermione into Dumbledore's Army," says George, "so at least be straight with us."

Harry takes one look at the youngest Weasley, then he nods to have her approach. "Ginny, back me up over here."

"Whatcha need, good sir?"

"What's Ginny got to do with those accusations inside?" asks Ron. "We trust you, mate, but Mad-Eye's raised some serious points in there."

"You think Voldemort's possessing  _me_?" Harry gives a mirthless laugh. "I know someone who was possessed by him, and she can give you a good explanation of what it's like, since I—have—no—bloody—experience—with—that."

"We're just worried that—" Fred's statement is cut off as Ginny scowls at him.

"Well, I have some  _bloody_  experience with that, literally." She mimics looking around in shock confusion. "That's how it feels after you're possessed. No idea where or what you've been doing, like a piece of your life's just been chopped away."

"Yeah," nods Harry, "Ginny was pretty much gone during her possessed periods. Hermione can attest to me being myself all the time, except the Polyjuice stuff which doesn't count. Um, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nods in agreement. "I won't deny that Professor Moody's got some legitimate suspicions, but Harry's as normal as he can be... which doesn't say much."

"What!?"

"I'm just joking," she smiles widely, flashing her white teeth at him. "Took a page out of your book, Mister Jokes."

"I came here to visit dad," says Ginny, "not stand and watch Harry being bombarded with evil accusations."

Harry smiles while looking at Hermione. "Should we rather change our group to  _Voldemort's Army,_ since everyone's coming at me with accusations?"

"What, no—" Ron's apologies are swiftly interrupted as Hermione stands with her arms folded. Her stare elicits a laugh from Harry as she looks at him.

" _Voldemort's Army..._ Doesn't say much when you've got a Mudblood as a friend, huh?"

"Are you seriously using that awful word?" asks Fred. "Drop that scoundrel statement."

"You're better than that, Granger," says George.

"Why should I shudder and tremble from one little insult?" asks Hermione, as Ron shakes his head.

"Don't fall for Malfoy's and those Slytherin gits' horrible insults. They'll never see you for the genius that you are, it's forever blood status and stuff."

"Ahem," Hermione wraps an arm around Harry's back, "Exhibit A: This right here is definite proof that Slytherin House isn't all bad."

"Exhibit B," Harry returns the gesture. "My beloved Muggleborn, and not even Voldemort's possession can change this fact."

"Well, at least he's still normal," says Fred, before Mrs. Weasley steps through the doors with the others.

"Oh, have we missed something?" she asks, upon seeing Harry and Hermione standing with their arms wrapped around each other.

"Uh," Ginny fiddles with her fingers while looking around, "We were all just discussing school stuff, yes."

They now start their journey back to the Underground where Harry and Hermione sit beside each other. As the train moves on, he brings his head to her right shoulder while Hermione leans towards him with a smile. Their train ride spent wordlessly reflecting upon today's events.

 


	15. The End-of-Term Holidays

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

Number 12, Grimmauld Place seems almost unrecognisable with its lavish interior on the 25th of December. This follows days of cleaning and putting up all manner of decorations for Christmas. Of these, Harry can't help but stare at the garlands of  _holly_  hanging on the chandeliers.

"Oh no," gasps Hermione, who rushes from the dining room to pull Harry out the hallway. She then turns him around and grabs him into a hug. "No sad thoughts on Christmas Day, okay? How'd you like my present?"

"Brilliant! Sorry, I was just thinking about my old—"

"Wand, I know." Hermione smiles upon interlocking their fingers and holding his hands up for a dance. "Let's go to the stairs... up the stairs... then to your  _surprise_  room. You know, the room Ginny and I used to sleep in... then had to relocate as it was chosen for decorations."

"Lead the way my Muggleba—"

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD SCUM!"

Harry hurriedly lets Hermione lead their dance towards the ground floor staircase. Meanwhile, Sirius and Tonks race out the dining room to close the screaming portrait's curtains.

"Oh shut up, old hag," sighs Sirius, while Tonks laughs as she looks down the hallway.

"Now that's adorable, dance on, lovebirds!" Her gaze now falls on Harry as the pair attempt to dance their way up to the first floor. "Go take a look at your Christmas surprise, little snakey snake."

"Don't fall now," laughs Hermione, who manages to climb the steps while dancing with a beaming Harry.

"You didn't say you were going to do your hair for Christmas," says Harry, "It looks great, well, that's not to say your normal bush isn't—"

"Relax," laughs Hermione. "You're so tense, even more so than..." She lets out more than a few giggles before continuing. "Professor Snape!"

"Oh, you did not just say that." Harry pulls her closer as they step onto the first floor landing. "For someone who's had to cancel a trip with their parents, you're awfully jolly today."

"It's tough, yes. But there's a little lonely train compartment boy that needs more love on Christmas, like this..." They come to a halt outside the shut bedroom door where Hermione wraps her arms around Harry.

"Wait, don't you wanna wipe off that lipsti—Hey!"

After planting a firm kiss on both his cheeks, and Harry's forehead, Hermione steps back to fold her arms. "I deliberately got the strongest red just for this. No wiping it off until we leave to see Mr. Weasley!"

"So it's like that, eh? Getting all feisty with  _me_? You don't know who you're messing with, Miss Granger."

"Oh please, what's the worst you can d-dooooo— my gosh!" Hermione's cheeks nearly match her lipstick as Harry kisses the nape of her neck.

"I warned you not to messs with me, sssexy," hisses Harry, while looking into Hermione's widened eyes. "Don't expect a Krum in the bum though, like you got last year."

"A Krum in the—" Hermione groans while neatening her sleek hair. "Seriously? That dirty mouth of yours needs a thorough cleaning, Mister."

Still standing at the door, Harry grins. "Bring it on, Muggle wuggle stranger danger Granger."

"Oi, what in the—" Ron steps onto the first floor landing where Harry and Hermione are locked in an embrace. "I'll... come back later?"

The pair giggle after ending their exchange. Then, Hermione gasps upon seeing the object carried by Ron. "What in the world is  _that_  supposed to be?"

Ron looks amusingly at Harry. "You didn't tell her yet, mate?"

"Harry... why is Ron carrying a, um, shrivelled up hand? I demand an explanation for such a creepy object! Did you find it lying around here somewhere? Looks like something that'd be kept by Sirius' family."

"No," laughs Harry, while caressing Hermione's braid. "Sirius got me that, via Tonks who went, again disguised, to Borgin and Burkes. Oh relax, Hermione, she bought it fair and square."

He can't help but pinch her cheeks before continuing:

"It's getting riskier by the day having me at Hogwarts, especially the way I sometimes sneak around at night. So, when push comes to shove, they bought me that and checked to make sure it's clean."

"And is it?" asks Hermione, nervously surveying the shrivelled hand. "It looks like a Dark artefact."

"Some might even call my Map a  _Dark artefact_  by how it works," says Harry, "but dark doesn't always mean  _evil_. It's all in the use, like how everyone has a wand which can fire lethal curses too."

"So, what exactly is that thing anyway?" asks Hermione again, eliciting a grin from Ron.

"The Hand of Glory. If you let it grip a candle, then only the holder gets its light. Utterly brilliant!"

Harry remains smiling as the trio stand outside his bedroom door. "Now there's even less chance of me being seen under the Cloak at night. I could even stick my hand out, provided it's really dark, and hold the Hand to give myself some light."

"Very nice," says Hermione, "and then you'll set your Cloak alight in the process. Are you trying to pull a Professor Snape or something?"

"Hey, go take your  _Lacarnum Inflamari_  jokes elsewhere," says Harry, while Hermione bursts out laughing. "You're super chirpy today, aren't you? How cute."

But Hermione remains in smiles as she grabs Harry's hand. "I thought this was your 'hand of glory', hmm? Hahahaha!"

Ron looks from the Hand of Glory to Harry's hand being held by Hermione. "Blimey! Did she really just make that joke?"

"Oh what's wrong, Harry?" asks Hermione. "Cat got your tongue? No witty comeback? Hehehe, Crookshanks got your tongue, huh? Is the big, bad Slytherin finally at a loss for words?"

"Bloody bookworm," mutters Harry, before pulling Hermione into a hug. This time he holds her tightly, refusing to let go. "Oh look, there's a bushy wushy stuck to my chest... get it off!"

"This is getting weird, mate," says Ron, slowly backing off towards the staircase. "I'll... come back later then."

"Hey, let me go!" Hermione tries to wriggle her way out of a laughing Harry's grip. "I'm warning you, Mister..."

"All I hear is chirpie-chirpie from the bushy birdie-birdie, mwahahaha!" Harry plants a kiss on the top of her head. "Your herbal shampoo smells super lovely, mm-hmm."

"Yes, but if I stand up straight then you can no longer sniff the top of my hair, Mister Potter. Now let me go, this is enough sweaty smell for today I'm getting."

"Don't act like you don't like it," says Harry, while still holding Hermione tightly. "You love my ssscent—HEY!"

Harry jumps back as Hermione repeatedly pokes him in the abdomen.

"That tickled."

"Serves you right, hmph." She checks her hair, gives a curtsy, then gestures for Harry to open the door. "Ladies first."

"Why, thank you, kind madam." Harry bows before opening the door and gawking at his room. "Wow, this is..."

"Beautiful," gasps Hermione, who nudges Harry aside to enter the room decked in Slytherin colours everywhere. From the bed to the walls to even the windows, emerald and silver adorn this bedroom.

"Aren't you supposed to hate our House colours, Gryffindor?"

"Don't be silly, Harry. There's nothing stopping me from appreciating a splendid décor, regardless of House affiliation."

"Well, I certainly see one splendid décor right here..."

Hermione blushes as Harry hugs her from behind. "You're quite overbearing at times."

"Fine, I'll just go back to my Pansy or Fleur, the latter of whom I really do miss these days." Harry releases his hug. "I can understand if you've got an issue with me liking other girls too, instead of just you."

"Not this topic again," says a groaning Hermione. "I'm not an idiot, Harry James Potter, in case you haven't noticed."

"I didn't say that."

Hermione walks across the room to sit upon Harry's bed, which is draped in emerald bed sheets. "So why do you still believe that I'm a jealous witch looking to throw tantrums and cry?" She kicks off her shoes before resting her head atop a silver pillow. "I know you far too well by now, little lonely train compartment boy."

While Hermione stares at the chandelier in the room's centre, Harry sits beside her on the soft bed. "I just can't stop thinking that it upsets you when I'm with other girls."

"You're the one that's getting insecure at a topic I hadn't even brought up."

"Yeah," Harry grins. "I suppose. So, um, do you think Kreacher likes our gifts?"

"I'm sure he would, my patchwork quilt goes well with that cute little sleeping bag you got him. That was very nice of you to do, Harry."

"Well, don't expect me to free him, that's far too risky for us all." He turns to look at Hermione laying behind him, on the left side of the bed. "You mind?"

"If I had a Galleon every time I became your pillow..." She looks down as Harry lays with his head on her abdomen, the pair now forming a T. "Whoops, ignore that."

"Was that your stomach? I could get you some more food if you're still hungry," says Harry.

"Perhaps I should've gotten myself a little bell for Christmas," Hermione giggles. "One ring, and Snakey comes running."

"Shh, be quiet! Hot water bottles aren't supposed to speak."

"Anyway, I was thinking about that Hand of Glory thing Sirius and Tonks got you," says Hermione, while looking to see Harry laying unusually still. "I reckon it can be very useful for our nights in the Room of Requirement. No need to have the torches on nor use a Wand-Lighting Charm, nope. Now I can hold it for my studies while you doze off on me as usual. Pretty neat idea, don't you thi..."

_My Lord, everything is ready. Our negotiations are set to begin soon._

_You have done well, Bartemius. Once again, you've impressed in your duties._

_Thank you, My Lord. It may take some time to finalize the logistics... but we can assume it will happen near mid-January._

_Good, and the Devil's Snare?_

_Already in transit, My Lord. He will be taken care of in a manner eliciting little threat from the Ministry. They will not suspect us at all._

_Excellent..._

"Harry? Wake up! How could you just doze off like that at this hour? Not to mention that I was talking to you, hmph."

Darkness turns to a grey ceiling as Hermione's voice grows nearer by the second. Now, Harry sits up to see Hermione right beside him on the bed, her expression fairly concerned.

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to just fall asleep like that."

She leans closer upon seeing the thoughtful expression on Harry's face. "I know that look, so what's it this time? Another vision? At least you weren't screaming and squirming."

"Not exactly a vision, I didn't see a thing... just darkness. But there were voices speaking," says Harry, who turns to tuck some of Hermione's hair behind her ears.

"Voldemort, I assume?"

"Yes, and Bartemius Crouch Junior, his most faithful servant. They were discussing something vague... They're set to begin negotiations with someone, not sure who."

Hermione slightly frowns in thought while Harry continues to neaten her styled hair. "Hmm, it can't be the giants because Hagrid already told Ron and I that they're on Voldemort's side. That was weeks ago already. Anything else?"

Harry neatens Hermione's jumper collar while speaking. "I'm not sure if these are all related, but something's bound to happen around mid-January. Something that he didn't specify. Then there's another plan regarding assassination of someone via Devil's Snare. I dunno who or where this will happen but Voldemort wants someone kept quiet."

"We should inform the Order and, please, you need to work harder on blocking out this eavesdropping," says Hermione. "I know they're useful, but remember that Voldemort might use them against you... What if this is false information?"

"No point in arguing now, I suppose."

They immediately inform the others gathered in the dining room, but none can decipher what Harry's just overheard. With no leads to follow up on, the group (comprising Harry, Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Bill, Ron, Fred and George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley) are taken to St. Mungo's by Mundungus Fletcher.

"It's a good thing we've still got the old Anglia," says Mrs. Weasley, as the group sit inside the Weasley family car. "Or else Mundungus would've 'procured' us a vehicle for the ride. For Heaven's sake, stick to the roads in Arthur's car, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Wow," says Harry, looking around at the mass of people seated inside the Ford as Mundungus drives through relatively clear streets. "Magic never fails to impress."

Hermione giggles. "Don't tell me you expected me to sit on your lap, huh?"

Sitting right beside the pair is Lupin, who eyes them most curiously. "I always knew you two had something going."

"You're getting slow on the observations there, Moony," says Sirius, sitting in the row of seats behind Harry's. "Where do you think Harry got those skills from?"

"Yeah, Professor." Harry looks at Lupin, "What Sirius said."

Lupin laughs while patting Harry on the shoulder. "No need to call me that anymore, really."

"Yes," growls Moody, "That's what I've been telling this lot since last summer! Come off it, kids, we ain't your teachers anymore."

Tonks, seated beside Sirius (and therefore behind Lupin) furrows her black brows. "Bit of respect never hurts, does it? They're just being polite to you two. Damn good teachers from what I've heard them say."

"Trust me," says Harry, while looking at his former Defence Against the Dark Arts professors. "We've had far worse before... Hermione, let's hear it."

"Ahem," she leans against Harry while looking up to the roof upon speaking. "An overambitious Ravenclaw nutcase who just had Lord Voldemort on the back of his head. Now..."

"He's dead!" laughs Harry.

"Uh-huh," Hermione continues. "Then we had an egotistical fraud, again from Ravenclaw, who messed himself up in the end... wait a minute... Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Harry?"

"Ravenclaws should never teach Defence?"

"No!" laughs Hermione. "Don't discriminate, Mister. I was just thinking if maybe Gilderoy Lockhart could be at St. Mungo's?"

Sitting to the far left of Sirius' row is Ginny, who speaks up. "Yep, mum said he is, right?"

"I don't wish to speak about that man," says Mrs. Weasley, "Can't believe how much we've wasted on his supposed  _accomplishments_."

"Maybe I should be Defence Against the Dark Arts professor someday," says Tonks, while looking up quite smugly. "You'll all see how great we Hufflepuffs really are! I'll plan the best lessons Hogwarts has ever had! You think playing some tunes while facing boggarts are fun? Pfft—"

"Oh, come on!" sighs Lupin, while Harry nudges him in the side.

"—I'll show you all some real fun. Boggarts my arse!"

"Yeah, well," says Harry, "that post is most definitely cursed. Good luck staying more than a year."

"Rubbish," scoffs Tonks, "No curse can stop me. Besides," she looks to Bill seated beside her. "Can't you do anything about it, Mr. Curse-Breaker?"

"Trust me, we've already tried to fix this issue," Bill shakes his head. "Never seen one  _that_  powerful and lingering before. I can only wonder who in their not-so-right mind might've put something like that in place."

"Ah, here we are, ladies and gents," says Sirius, once Mundungus stops to park near the required storefront. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Don't do drugs, kids, or you might end up in here."

"Sirius Black!" says Mrs. Weasley.

"That's me."

"—this is not a place for jokes. So, you're implying that my husband is on drugs?"

"I was just joking, Molly, feel the Christmas spirit and laugh. But, now that you mentioned it, Arthur is usually very happy..."

"That's it, get out!"

Everyone hurries out the car while, thankfully, no Muggles are within view to see them. Sirius then speaks to a mannequin in the abandoned store's window which grants them entry. Now, they pass through (in little groups) to St. Mungo's reception area.

The hospital appears lavishly decorated with snowy Christmas trees, floating baubles of red and gold, and a variety of festive items. Harry walks ahead of the group as they soon pay a hearty visit to Mr. Weasley, who ends up being hounded by his wife for attempting Muggle medicine on his wounds. Unwilling to intrude on Mrs. Weasley's admonishment, the group heads their separate ways for now.

Sirius, Tonks, and Lupin approach a rather depressed man (who's recently acquired lycanthropy) in Mr. Weasley's ward. Moody takes to patrolling as many corridors as he can, as expected. Bill and the twins now chat quite enthusiastically in and around their father's ward. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione head off in search of the tearoom on the fifth floor. They eventually reach the fourth floor where Harry stops in his tracks near a corridor marked 'SPELL DAMAGE'.

"Oh my gosh!" says Ginny, while pointing at the double doors to the left which Harry's approaching. "Guys, it's really Gilderoy Lockhart! Look, he's waving and smiling at us... bet he doesn't remember anything really."

"Where?" Hermione glances about before seeing Harry reach for his back pocket. "Oh no..."

"Blimey! Is Harry gonna attack that poor, Obliviated prat? That's a bit much, don't you think?"

Ginny giggles upon looking at Hermione. "Don't you think he's irresistible when he's like this? So...  _bad_?"

"It's irresponsible, not irresistible." Hermione rushes to grab Harry by the arm. "No, let it go,  _please_. You honestly can't start attacking anyone, let alone a registered patient, right here in a place of healing!"

"Let me go, Hermione Jean Granger."

"Not until you take a deep breath, think happy thoughts, and calm down," says Hermione, who battles to prevent Harry from drawing his wand. "You're already seen in a negative light by the Ministry, remember?"

"Hmph." Harry remains glaring at the beaming Lockhart (who's dressed in a long, lilac gown). "Just let me yank open those doors, Hermione, my new wand needs a Christmas practice dummy."

"No, I refuse to let you endanger yourself with your old grudges. Calm down already, right—this—instant. Underage magic, remember?" She now wraps her arms to hug Harry from behind, though also keeping him at bay as Lockhart opens the double doors.

"Well, hello there! I've got plenty of autographs for all my adoring fans," he says, with a vacant (yet dazzling) smile on his face. "You lot seem a little... familiar, I think? Have we met? My name's Gilderoy Lockhart... which you probably already know, of course."

_You're dead, you coward._

Lockhart's smile fades slightly as he gazes intently at Harry. "You really seem familiar, have we met before? What's got you so upset, young man?"

_Not so tough now, are you? I'm no twelve year old anymore. Come on, swine, come at me! Try that memory crap on me this time and see what happens. I'll blast you down and—_

"Harry," whispers Hermione in his ear, while still holding him from behind. "He's already paid the price for his mistakes, don't you think? At least they've been taking good care of him in here so... he's happy, I suppose. Calm down, I can feel your heart thumping from here!" She rests her head on Harry's shoulder while Ron tries to remind Lockhart of his previous post at Hogwarts.

"I suppose you must've learnt everything from me, eh?" Lockhart beams with another vacant smile, but remains absolutely clueless nonetheless. Before he can carry on speaking, Moody arrives on the fourth floor.

"You kids alright? Potter?"

"Perfectly fine, Professor," says Harry, looking at Moody with a smile. "We're just catching up with one of your predecessors."

"Him?" Moody looks at a still-smiling Lockhart before laughing out loud. "Oh yes, I'm sure he'd do perfectly fine against the Death Eaters! Happy Christmas to you, Lockhart." He then walks off while still laughing with himself.

"A professor? Me?" asks Lockhart. "Yes, someone's just recently told me a similar story. Ah, it's that pretty lady sitting on that bench over there that said so!"

"What lady—" Harry's question is interrupted as Ginny groans upon turning around.

"What would  _you_  know about Lockhart at Hogwarts? And how long have you been sitting in that corner... watching us, huh?"

"Long enough to see zat my 'Arry 'as not changed a leetle bit."

Harry spins around (with Hermione still holding him at bay) to see a smiling Fleur approach.

"I loved zat present you sent, 'Arry, good to see you still remember me." She looks at Hermione, who remains hugging Harry from behind. "You, um... ze Granger girl, yes, zank you for forevair taking care of 'zis boy."

Hermione smiles, though Ginny scowls at Fleur.

"I thought Bill said you're going home for Christmas? Why are you here at St. Mungo's then? Picking up some medicine for yourself?"

"Was I talking to you, William's seester? Please shhhhh." Fleur holds her head high while shoving Ginny aside to approach Harry. "'Appy Christmas to you, old friend."

"Old? It's only been like over a year since we've met," says Harry, who smiles as Hermione releases him to hug Fleur. "Happy Christmas to you too. Sorry I can't see you much these days. You must understand that travel is difficult for me in these times."

"I'm sure she understands," says Hermione. "You're not an ordinary guy."

"'E is extraordinary." Fleur once again smiles, letting her smooth cheeks reach her blue eyes. "But like I always do say: maybe someday everything will be normal again. Zen zings will be much better for us all."

"Would you like some time alone out here with Fleur?" asks Hermione. "The three of us could go into the ward with Professor Lockhart. Yes, Ginny, we should give them some space, come on!"

"I will not keep 'im too long away from you," says Fleur, while looking at Hermione. "After all, 'e 'as spoken very much about you last year. Ze boy even went crazy, well... more zan usual... by battling Veektor for your affections."

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron now head into the long-term residents' ward with Lockhart and his Healer. Meanwhile, Harry holds Fleur's hands while nearly entranced by her eyes.

"Now this is a magnificent Christmas surprise, I must say. Wasn't expecting to see you... and in here of all places."

"Well... I 'ave been 'ere with William when 'is father was attacked. Unfortunately we did 'ave to return to ze bank, because ze Goblins do not give much time off unless eet is a proper 'oliday. Stupid goblins, hmph! I came to zis floor because I remember when you told me ze story of ze bad Professor zat tried to wipe your memories. Of course, I did not tell 'im about zat part of ze story. So, um, 'ow 'ave you been lately?" Fleur leads Harry to the corner bench where they sit together.

"I've been in and out of school, and it's quite fun... well... except for the fact that it's not official."

"It will be," says Fleur, who looks him up and down before trying to smooth his unruly hair. "Your Dumbly-Dorr will not let you down, I am sure. 'Arry, I do not know if you know but, um, about ze Triwizard Tournament..."

"What about it?"

"Ze report just came out ze uzzer day. Apparently, your Ministry 'as decided to officially award ze win to Alyssa. Posthumously, of course. I am really sorry, 'Arry!" Fleur swiftly grabs him into a tight hug, although Harry merely shrugs.

"That's to be expected, I don't care."

"What? No tears? No crying? And 'ere I zought you would be throwing yourself in my arms in 'eartbreak."

"I'm trying to control my emotions as much as possible, Fleur." Harry scoffs. "It's hard enough now that I'm in a place that has three previous Professors, one of whom is bad, like you said."

"Ooooo', so you are growing up?" She kisses him on the lips before speaking. "I did not zink zis was even possible."

"Yeah, well, I had three months to constantly relive my worst memories," says Harry, whose face remains pressed against Fleur's robes, on her bosom. "Nice and cosy here, I almost forgot how it felt."

"And I 'ave almost forgotten 'ow wonderfully untidy your 'air always seems to be. So rich and yet too cheap to buy ze 'air care potion. Not zat I do not like it as it is, just saying."

"I'll never get tired of how damn perfect your hair looks and feels, really." Harry gently grasps a fistful of Fleur's sleek silvery blonde locks in hand. "It's like silk in a way, so smooth and flowy and..."

He spends the next half an hour in the company of Fleur Delacour. Although they rarely see each other these days, Harry feels the same fuzzy warmth as ever in her presence.

"I will try to pop in by your 'ouse zat I cannot speak of," says Fleur, who stands up with as Harry as the trio emerge from the ward. "William's seester really does not like me, I see."

Indeed, Ginny remains glaring at Fleur as the latter wraps her arms around Harry for another long hug. Hermione, however, sees the expression on Harry's face and smiles.

"I like ze Granger girl," whispers Fleur. "She is a good one for you."

"You're also a good one for me," says Harry.

"Of course I am, leetle 'Arry. Big leetle 'Arry." She now cups his cheeks, warming up his rather cold face. "You are like an ice block, poor darling. I shall leave you to your friends."

"No, wait, you're my friend too!" says Harry. "Feel free to stay while we're here."

Fleur smiles but shakes her head. "My papan and some family will be 'ere to pick me up soon. I would like to spend zis day at 'ome, you see, since I work very long in zis country. But do not fret and cry, my love, we will be seeing each uzzer again, I am sure."

Harry watches, or rather, admires, Fleur as she almost floats across the room while approaching the stairs. One last glimpse of silvery blonde disappears beneath the top step of the fourth floor, before Harry turns to look at Hermione.

"Enjoy your leetle reunion?" she asks, with the slightest hint of tears in her eyes.

"Definitely." Harry furrows his brows upon seeing Hermione's misty-eyed look. "Are you alright?"

"Don't worry too much about her," says Ron. "We just saw Neville visiting his parents in Lockhart's ward with Neville's gran. Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, well, they're  _out of it_  by far, mate."

"Yeah."

Harry takes a moment to briefly recall a conversation he's had during his stint in Azkaban...

_"So, about what you did to the Longbottoms..."_

_"The Cruciatus Curse, my baby Potter. You've got to MEAN it, you've got to really want to enjoy causing pain."_

Keeping these thoughts to himself, Harry nods. "I think we should give Neville and his gran some space."

"Harry," Hermione walks right up to him in the middle of the fourth floor. "How... I can hardly believe you survived three months in the same place as—"

"Bellatrix Lestrange, yes," says Harry. "She's a lot less intimidating in prison clothes and without a wand, mind you."

"This is not a joking matter," says Ginny. "Neville's braver than we'd think if he can stomach seeing his parents like  _that_. If mum and dad ended up in such a state... I don't know how I'd handle it."

"Well, my parents are only dead so I'll never know."

"How can you be so callous?" asks Ron. "Don't you wanna at least see Neville's grandmother? I'm sure she'd love to meet the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Yeah but... I'm a person beneath all the fame and stuff. You expect me to just burst into tears from what happened to Neville's parents?" Harry turns around to walk towards the stairs. "Tearoom's on the fifth floor. Oh, and I don't see people sobbing over Lily and James Potter, do I? At least Neville can actually visit his parents, feel his parents, hug his parents, regardless of their mental state."

"Neville's not going to appreciate you just walking off like this," says Ginny, as Harry climbs the stairs. "I never knew  _this_  side of him."

"Just leave Harry," says Hermione, "I've known him longer than you do. By the way, Ginny, Neville would actually prefer that people  _don't_ see his parents at all."

"Yeah, but, whatever happened to common decency?" asks Ginny.

"In case you haven't noticed," says Hermione, "Harry's just as flawed as anyone else, and that's why I love him. He's not a shining paragon of justice nor Boy-Who-Lived saint perfection angel. He's a person. Now, how about we leave Neville and focus on Harry, okay? He's feeling left out."

"He's bloody mental, that one," mutters Ron, while climbing the stairs. "To think he was just gonna pull out his new wand and attack Lockhart right then and there. Hermione, don't you think being with Harry is kinda like you being with... Malfoy? I mean, a Gryffindor and Slytherin being in love is just... weird."

"Not Malfoy, gross! But Harry, though, that only makes it more fun," says Hermione. "To hell with House boundaries and what others think."

Leaning back on a couch in the lavish tearoom, Harry yawns as he's soon joined by the trio. Hermione takes to procuring cups of tea for each of them, and smiles as Harry fans it until cool enough to drink.

"Why, thank you, Mister Potter," she says, giggling. "I think I'll sit next to you. And before you get nuts... no, I'm not at all jealous of your cuddle with Fleur."

"I didn't say anything," says Harry, "You're not reading my mind, are you? Legilimency?"

"Ha-ha, very funny." Hermione kicks off her shoes and sits cross-legged on the couch. "I can read your mind, whoooo, isn't that scary?"

"If I could read your mind, my intelligent girl, I wouldn't even need to attend school."

Hermione sips her tea then snorts with laughter. "But you  _don't_  attend school, officially, that is. We'd better get in a hefty study session when we're back at Sirius' place."

"In the holidays?" asks Harry, to which Ginny and Ron glance quizzically at him. "Hermione wants to do some studying with me."

"What? That's nuts!" says Ginny.

"O.W.L. year or not, that's barking mental," says Ron, while Hermione harrumphs and looks at Harry.

"What do you say?"

"Yes, madam, whatever you want, madam."

"Good boy." Hermione smiles and finishes her tea. "See? Harry knows his priorities."

The journey back to Grimmauld Place, around late afternoon, proves uneventful, though the night's celebrations definitely live up to expectations.

"Come on, little Black," says a white-haired Tonks, who's had more than a few alcoholic beverages before taking Harry to the drawing room. "Wanna dance with an Auror? Ignore that stupid tapestry and let's party!"

"Don't let him get drunk," warns a giggling Hermione, who stands watching Harry and Tonks dance. "Show some responsibility."

Sirius soon enters the room with Lupin, both intoxicated while singing their carols loud enough to constantly wake the screaming portrait downstairs. Harry, however, looks at Hermione and grins before mouthing: 'watch this.'

"What are you—?" She laughs as Harry leads Tonks over towards a singing Lupin. "Such an instigator, I must say."

"Hey, Professor!" calls Harry, before Lupin turns around to look at him.

"What's up, James? We sneaking out again? Don't forget the Map to check for old Filch. And don't let Severus catch us out after dark either, the nosey git."

"What? Oh... um, anyway," Harry smiles at Lupin before gesturing towards Tonks. "Would you like to dance with her? She's a pretty good Auror."

"A bloody good Auror, yes!" Tonks slaps Harry hard on his back. "That's what I am: one fine, kick arse Dark-wizard catcher..."

"Come on, Professor," says Harry, while grabbing Lupin's arms. "She's not a boggart, is she? No need to be scared of Tonksy."

"I'm not scared!" says Lupin, while Sirius remains singing and prancing across the drawing room. "Let's have this dance, Tonks."

"Dance it, yeah!" cheers Sirius, whose next bottle of alcohol finally has him falling onto a nearby couch. "Just... gonna... rest... here."

"Wow, they're all absolutely hammered," says Hermione, grabbing Harry's hands. "Shall we dance? Sober, that is."

"I dunno if we can actually dance to these sappy tunes of Mrs. Weasley's wireless but... Oh, what the hell, let's dance, Mugglebabe!"

And so they dance... minutes turning to hours... Lights gradually growing dimmer as Mrs. Weasley tries her best to have everyone sleeping as close to midnight as possible.

"I know we're all having fun, yes," she says, "But we can't afford to be too smashed these days! Fred, George, that's enough alcohol for one night! Ginny, off to bed. Same for you, Ronald!"

"Are you still planning on studying tonight?" asks Harry, while kissing Hermione on the head (which rests on his shoulder yet again).

"Are you still planning on passing this year?"

"Point taken. Alright, let's be off." Harry leads the way as they manoeuvre past the dancing Lupin and Tonks. The pair of students now exit the drawing room to stand on the first floor landing.

Hermione approaches the banister on their right, which overlooks the hallway downstairs. "I wish we could just dislodge that insulting portrait already. This is actually a beautiful house if it could be revamped appropriately."

"Neighbourhood's a dump, though."

"But this place is secure," says Hermione, "and spacious too. Anyway, If only we could use that study room on the ground floor. But the portrait would scream through the hallway and come as a nasty shock."

"Best to stick to the bedroom, I guess." Harry now heads to his new room across the landing. "So, if this used to be Ginny and your room then where are you two going to sleep?"

"Sirius had the master bedroom on the third floor revamped for us. Put in two separate beds just like your room has here... wait, why exactly are there two beds in here?" asks Hermione. "I mean, Ron's still in that bedroom on the second floor, and the twins are in theirs on the third."

"Perhaps Tonks can share a room with Ginny when she doesn't go home to mum Andromeda, the you can share this one?" asks Harry.

Hermione laughs a slight bit. "And the grown-ups are just going to let us share a room? You know how strict Mrs. Weasley can get with these things, right?"

"Yeah, well, this is Sirius' place and I'm his godson. So this is basically my place too, haha deal with it." Harry gestures to the second bed in his room. "Excuse the Slytherin colours but would you like to stay here? It will be beneficial for us both... for academic purposes."

"Alright, let me fetch my trunk."

Much of the night (and holidays) is spent with Harry and Hermione studying through the latter's coursework. Through December and the start of January, they spend hours behind stacks of books and assignments in Harry's room. Upon falling asleep, Harry rests quite peacefully in the dark while Hermione makes excellent use of the Hand of Glory to study. Then, as the start of term nears, Professor Snape pays a visit to inform Harry of Dumbledore's efforts regarding his return to school. To everyone's relief, it appears that more progress has been made.

"We can assume that late February to the start of March might be a decisive period," says Snape, while meeting Harry in the dining room. "Whether you'll truly return or be kept out of school remains to be seen."

"What a waste of time," scoffs Sirius, seated beside Harry, "Thanks for useless information, Severus."

"Come on, Sirius, leave him alone," mutters Harry. "Thank you, Professor, I just hope I'll be back in time to actually do my O.W.L.s."

"I do hope you're doing more than just theoretical revision over this year's Potions," says Snape, lowering his voice so Mrs. Weasley standing nearby doesn't overhear. "Polyjuice alone, no matter how impressive it is to brew, will not carry you through this year, Potter."

"Is everything alright, Harry?" asks Mrs. Weasley, standing near the doorway. "You're not in trouble or anything, are you? What is Professor Snape whispering about?"

"He's giving me advice on when we resume our Occlumency lessons, yes."

"Alright," says Sirius, "Off you go, Severus, out of my house please."

"Sirius!" Mrs. Weasley shakes her head, but gets a fright as the portrait in the entrance hall acts up again.

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD SCUM! OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"I would suggest settling your family issues, Black," says a sneering Snape, standing up from his seat. "Not a very conducive environment for students, is it?"

Hermione's voice can be heard coming from the entrance hall. "What exactly is your problem?"

"THERE IS NO PLACE FOR FILTHY BLOOD IN THIS MOST ESTEEMED FAMILY HOME. OUT WITH YOU FOUL, BESMIRCHING SWINE."

Jumping up from his seat, Harry strides out the room and reaches the hall together with Snape.

"HALF-BREED SCUM!"

"Professor!" Harry yelps while battling to shut the curtains with Hermione. "A little help here, please?"

"HALF-BREED SCUM! ILL-TREATED CHILD OF MUGGLE LOINS! GET OUT, OUT!"

"She's talking to you, Potter," says Snape rather swiftly, before turning on his heels. "Time for me to leave."

"Wha—?" Harry battles to bring his curtain to Hermione's side. "But I got a MuggleBORN parent, not 'Muggle', you stupid old portrait hag!"

"HALF-BREED SWINE ALL OVER MY HOUSE!"

"Harry!" yells Hermione. "Why are these curtains always so darn difficult to shut? There must be some nasty enchantments on them."

Sirius bursts through the dining room doors just as Snape Disapparates from the entrance hall. "Some help he was, typical. Hold on, kids, Padfoot to the rescue!"

While the portrait appears to be trying to claw at Harry's face, she remains screaming. "HALF-BREED SCUM! ILL-TREATED CHILD OF MUDBLOOD LOINS! GET OUT, OUT!"

"SHUT UP!" roars Sirius. "Get stuffed, you miserable excuse for a mother!" He then whispers to Harry and Hermione once they've shut the curtains. "Sorry once again, yet again, forever again, at this wretched woman."

"Can't believe she thinks I got a Muggle as a parent," mumbles Harry, while returning to his room beside Hermione. "Calling me a 'Half-Breed' again, I'm a Half- _Blood,_ the Half-Blood King!"

"I suppose we can't blame her for not knowing too much, since she is only a portrait." Hermione spends the next few hours finalising her Transfiguration assignments as the end of winter holidays steadily approaches.

 


	16. Memories and Disinformation

_Mid-January, 1996._

Since Harry remains expelled, he stays behind at Grimmauld Place as the rest of the students return to Hogwarts via the Knight Bus. He might not be travelling with, but the risk of Voldemort's supporters attacking a close friend of Harry's (namely Hermione) proves too great to ignore. When questioned about the safety of his Slytherin friends, Harry reckons they'd never be approached. The Pureblood and Half-Blood communities would hardly stand for such an attack. Hermione, though, proves a far easier target given her blood status.

"Well," says Sirius, staying behind with Mrs. Weasley and Harry at Grimmauld. "Guess you'll be staying here for a little while, Harry."

"What do you mean 'a little while'?" Mrs. Weasley asks, before being reminded of Dumbledore sneaking Harry into school. "Oh, and how do you manage to get in without being found?"

"Can't say, Professor Dumbledore's orders," says Harry. "Don't worry about me, though. Dad's Invisibility Cloak does wonders."

"He sneaks into classes, Molly," says Sirius, "Surely you'd see the benefit, and necessity, of this?"

"Of course I do! Just be careful, Harry dear. Arthur says the Ministry's trying to gain an even bigger foothold in Hogwarts now, especially with that Senior Undersecretary menace of theirs. Isn't that right, dear?"

Mr. Weasley, who's made a full recovery since his attack, nods. "That woman is like a bloodhound, Harry, be extra careful around her. So long as you're not allowed back at school I'd keep myself forever beneath that Invisibility Cloak if I were you."

"Yeah," says Sirius, "and try to avoid crossing paths with her even if you're invisible. Last thing we need is to have our arguments with the Wizengamot rendered null and void with your righteous trespassing."

Once Mr. and Mrs. Weasley return to the Burrow, Sirius gifts Harry a rather odd package as they stand in the dining room.

"Here, it'll save you the effort of side-along Apparating every time you wish to speak with me."

"What's this?" Harry rips open the package before withdrawing... "A mirror? I know I'm handsome but... thanks for the reminder, I guess?"

Sirius laughs before shaking his head. "No man, Harry, that is a two-way mirror. Think of it as a cell phone, just that we can see each other. Check this out..."

Furrowing his brows in confusion, Harry sees Sirius hurrying into the hallway before climbing the stairs.

"Psst, Harry!"

Looking down, he spots Sirius winking at him from the mirror in his hand. "Bloody hell! This is neat."

"James and I used to use these when we were in separate detentions, definitely neat."

"I suppose I'll rest up a bit and head to school tonight," says Harry, before spending the rest of the day with Sirius at home. As much as they'd love to get out, Harry constantly reminds them of the risks in doing so. "There's no telling just who's out there on the lookout for us."

On Sunday evening, Harry returns to school via Dobby, and they're soon back in the Room of Requirement.

"Dobby hopes Harry Potter will have a good year ahead, sir!"

"Thanks, I hope so too." He then steps into his bedroom, off the main practice area, and immediately smiles. "Now isn't this just utterly adorable?"

Sitting cross-legged before a copper cauldron brewing on the ground, Hermione looks up and smiles. "Welcome back, Mister Potter. I thought I might surprise you by starting your next batch of Polyjuice potion. Are you surprised?"

"Pleasantly so, yep," says Harry, before sitting down beside Hermione. "Last I checked, there were 23 doses worth of potion stored before we went on holiday, right?"

"Yes, and I took the liberty of checking your trunk and the drawers. All is well, Harry." Hermione looks quizzically as he holds her hands up to his face before kissing them. "Wha—?"

"Hardworking hands deserve some love. Have you added all the ingredients?"

"Of course, so now it's the three-week wait once again." Hermione puts a finger on her a lip while in thought. "I was thinking... perhaps you should attend the first two classes tomorrow, since Professor Snape had warned you at Sirius' place."

"What about Ronald?" asks Harry, while wrapping his arms around Hermione from behind.

"Two classes won't ruin his marks, even if it's the first of term. Ron's quite smart when he puts his mind to it." Her smile widens as Harry puts his chin on her shoulder. "I'm done brewing, remember? So, unless you'd like to sit here and watch a potion stew, we should get studying."

Monday Morning sees Harry leaving for the Great Hall as Ron, while walking beside Hermione. Whether from the freezing cold January weather or sheer start-of-term nerves, many students wear glum expressions. The exception is House Slytherin, who crowd around Malfoy and Nott at their seats by the table.

"I wonder what's got them so hyped up?" asks Hermione, walking down the aisle towards her seat at Gryffindor's table. Angelina and her team, however, greet them with most sullen expressions.

Harry looks to his dejected teammates and shrugs. "What happened?"

"Sounds like Malfoy and Nott convinced their fathers to upgrade the Quidditch team," Angelina groans while trying to stuff down some egg. "Congratulations, they've just became the only team flying all Firebolts. Yeah, you heard me right."

"Hey, Weasel King!" shouts Malfoy, standing between Nott and Pansy. "Have you heard the news?"

"Just leave him," whispers Hermione to Harry, who approaches the Slytherin table nonetheless.

"What's the deal, Malfoy?"

The entire group of Slytherins seated nearby snigger and jeer at Harry as Malfoy and Nott sneer.

"Don't faint when you hear this, poverty boy, but we just got upgraded to all Firebolts!" says Malfoy. "Just like I warned Chang, in case she hasn't told anyone. Yeah, did you hear that? _Firebolt_ , the Firebolt. And all seven of us are now flying them! Your whole family couldn't put enough together to even touch those kinda brooms. Still feeling optimistic, Weasley?"

Pansy and the girls eye Harry most curiously, as if gauging his expression, and their suspicions are soon confirmed once Harry merely shrugs.

"That's it?" asks Nott. "Either you're bluffing indifference, or you're in too much shock to respond, dimwit."

"Harry Potter flew a Firebolt before most of you lot," says Harry, eliciting another sigh of exasperation from his foes. "And he let you, Malfoy, first experience that broom. You owe it all to him, you prat."

"New calendar year, new beginnings, Weasel," says Malfoy. "I'm not sure who this 'Harry Potter' person is, but he doesn't sound very important to us."

Zabini, meanwhile, points and sniggers toward the Hufflepuff table on Slytherin's left. "Look at those Duffers panic over news of our brooms. Come the 25th, we'll absolutely wreck them!"

As expected, Harry sees Cedric Diggory surrounded at his seat by at least a dozen Hufflepuffs. All appear visibly upset and concerned over their team's glaring disadvantage.

"Enjoy your advantage while it lasts," says Harry to Malfoy and Nott. "Never know when Christmas might happen again for some."

"You're all talk, Poorblood," scoffs Nott. "See you in Potions... see you fail in Potions, that is."

Not in the mood for further arguing with Malfoy and Nott's group, Harry finishes breakfast before heading to History of Magic. Unsurprisingly, the class feels as dull as ever, even though he's taking it with Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. He then spends the following half hour break with Hermione in the library, while hoping that Ron would be studying.

"It's quite odd to have you so often in the library, Ron," whispers Hermione, her cheeks raised in a smile.

"Oh shut up and let's study on," replies Harry. "We Prefects ought to set an example for others, yeah."

Potions begins with Snape lecturing as usual, while bearing down on the Gryffindors (much to the Slytherins' amusement.) Harry, however, has himself seated at Hermione's workstation which alerts Snape that something's different. From what Harry's learned in Occlumency, it takes time for even the most skilled Legilimens to work their magic. Therefore, Snape later approaches him during the class' brewing.

"Name at least one leaf used in today's potion, Weasley, without referring to your textbook."

It's usually seen as a sign of respect to look one's Professor in the eye when responding, and Harry feels the subtle hint of Snape attempting Legilimency. But without using his wand (which would be far too obvious), Snape's covert attempt proves slightly weaker than outright casting the spell.

"I think," Harry clears his emotions and concentrates upon being questioned, "that'll be a dried billywig leaf, sir."

"Lucky thought, _Weasley_ , now sit down and continue with Miss Granger."

Disappointment seems clear upon the Slytherin boys' faces as Harry looks at them. His expression mimicking Ron's one of relief as Snape moves to inspect Neville Longbottom and Roger Malone nearby.

"I wonder," whispers Harry in Hermione's ear, "if we could get Malone into the D.A.?"

"Don't bother, his dad works at the Ministry. And we both know how Ministry workers' kids tend to be in our meetings. Ron and Cedric are two of the exceptions, but those like Marietta are unnecessarily miserable."

"Marietta's the only miserable one, though, and Zacharias Smith too," whispers Harry.

"Point taken, but no Malone, sorry," Hermione sighs while shifting her seat a few inches away from Harry. "Ron doesn't lean in on me this often."

"But I love you, Mugglebabe."

A slight blush appears on Hermione's face as she sits in the dimly lit corner. "Yes, _you_ do. But Ron's my friend, you know. Now, how about we get a move on with our brew? Prep that peppermint for me as the textbook states."

By the lesson's end, Harry and Hermione bottle a sample marked " _H. Granger and R. Weasley_ " which is taken to Snape's desk. Along the way, however, Crabbe and Goyle barge into Harry, causing him to drop the flask.

"Whoops," says Nott, standing between Crabbe and Goyle, and ahead of the Slytherin girls. "Was that Granger's work that just got smashed? I suppose the only contribution you've made is messing everything up as usual, Weasley."

" _Reparo_!" Harry manages to have Ron's wand repair the shattered flask, but is unable to affect the spilt liquid with this spell.

"What?"

"First-year spell, quick reactions. Prefects need to keep up the pace, Nott," says Harry, while scooping some potion into his repaired flask. "Oh, wait, you're not one."

"Well done, Ron!" Hermione softly applauds as Harry places their flask on Snape's desk. "It's good to see that you've been studying over the holidays too."

"Clean up that mess before I deduct House points, _Weasley,_ " says Snape from behind his desk, to which Malfoy and the boys whistle at Harry.

" _Evanesco_!"

The partially-successful spell (due to Harry not owning this wand) vanishes most, but not all, of the spilt potion. Hermione then clears the rest while she and Harry sneer at Nott before turning to exit the room. Since it's just over three hours from Harry's last dose of Polyjuice, he plays it safe by returning to the Room of Requirement.

"And I here thought you'd be kind enough to take Divination for me too," sighs Ron, getting up to ready himself for lunch in the Great Hall. "Um, would you mind taking my fourth class today, then? I'll take Trelawney after lunch."

Harry looks to Hermione who nods as the trio stand in the practice area of the Room of Requirement. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, sure. Ron wouldn't be missing out on anything of note then. Useless curriculum, useless teacher, useless textbook—"

"Useful student." Harry runs his fingers to comb through Hermione's bushy hair, before letting the two Gryffindors exit. This leaves him to spend lunch hour alone in the Room of Requirement.

Dobby, as usual, serves upon Harry and (literally) jumps for joy as he's gifted a Sickle for his hard work. With a deep bow, Dobby returns the dishes to the kitchen before Harry opts to take a nap throughout this afternoon. Slight voices can eventually be heard as Ron and Hermione shake him by the shoulder.

"Oi, wake up already, mate."

"You're going to be late for Occlumency, Harry! Such a sleepyhead, some things never ever change!"

"What's going on?" mumbles Harry, while sitting up as Hermione slips his glasses back onto him. "Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"Finished already," says Ron, "We saw you dozed off on the couch, then Hermione said we should rather leave you be."

"Now you're all fresh and awake for Professor Snape," says a smiling Hermione. "Good luck for your first Occlumency session of the new year, Harry."

Six o'clock sees Harry creeping all the way to the dungeons beneath his Invisibility Cloak, while also carrying the Marauder's Map in hand. The irony of Snape requiring James Potter's prized possessions in keeping these Occlumency lessons secret is a joke best left unsaid. At the slightest hint of Umbridge or a student nearing Snape's office, Harry is to duck beneath the Cloak with his Map.

Fortunately, nothing disrupts this evening's session where Harry battles to withstand Snape's Legilimency attacks. Brief flashes of memories occasionally trickle through after an hour's worth of practice, but Harry tries to contain them as much as possible. Nearing the two hour mark, however, sees more vivid memories being recalled, especially that of when he'd first met Hermione Granger.

Once the memory finally blurs out, Harry leans forward in his seat. "Man, my head... Why'd that go on so long?" He then gasps, realising his failure to resist Snape. "Sorry, sir, I don't know what happened there. I've been doing well up until this point, right? Um... Professor Snape, sir?"

Oddly enough, Snape remains seated in a remarkably similar manner to Harry. The Potions master sits with elbows on knees, leaning forward. But, unlike Harry, his expression seems unreadable while simply staring at the floor between them.

"Is something wrong, Professor? You're not... very disappointed that I couldn't kick you out of that last memory, are you? I'm not sure what kept it going so long—"

"Emotion, Potter," Snape speaks without looking at Harry. " _Powerful_ emotion, the kind most likely to be exploited by the Dark Lord. There's been faults in your efforts tonight, but at least you are making some attempts to resist.."

"So... one more time?"

"No, that'll be enough for tonight," says Snape, still seated in his seat. This followed by restoring Harry's more 'intimate' memories before Snape returns to his seat. "Take your belongings, we will continue next Monday."

"Thank you, sir." Harry grabs his Map and slips on his Invisibility Cloak before heading for the door. He can't help but wonder why Snape remains staring at the floor, even as Harry exits the office. The return trip to the seventh floor proves rather uneventful, and he soon steps into the Room of Requirement where Hermione's studying.

"So, how'd it go with Professor Snape?"

For once, Harry's not entirely sure. "I think it went well since he didn't get angry. Thing is, I dunno why Snape gets strange during some of these lessons. It's like he's almost sad, though I reckon nothing can sadden that strict man."

"Sounds like you, 'strict man'," Hermione laughs while looking up from her book. "Still in the mood to study? It's not like you have a choice, though."

"Move up then," Harry takes his seat as Hermione curls her legs on the couch. Her presence forever as warm as the first day they've met.

"What? Why are you smiling at me this much, Harry? Something funny?"

"I was just thinking about something."

"That something better be Transfiguration, because Professor McGonagall warned us of an uphill battle towards June."

"That something is a someone who's right next to me. Haha, I still remember your old song from years back," Harry folds his arms then places them on Hermione's knees, letting him look straight at her. "Still one of the most adorable things I've ever seen and heard."

"Song?" Hermione looks up from her book, as Harry remains eyeing her. "I don't sing at all."

Harry beams at Hermione, before trying to mimic her younger voice. " _Gryffindor is red, Ravenclaw is blue_..."

Hermione buries her face in her textbook, both cheeks a brilliant shade of magenta. "Oh gosh, did I really sing that silly little song?"

"We sure did a brilliant job of keeping our noses clean, eh? Just a crazy Professor, three-headed dog, Devil's Snare, dementors, murderous rat, discrimination, bullying, Death Eaters, oh, and Lord Voldemort." Harry raises his brows while giving a cheeky smile. "Sing it for me one more time, would you?"

"Absolutely not; I was young and excited for school back then—"

"After reading _Hogwarts, A History_ , right?"

"—I didn't know what to expect from this whole new world."

"Neither did I, and look what showed up," Harry opens Hermione's legs before laying face-up between them. Both students now reading from the textbook held by her. "Ah, this is cosy."

"Move up a bit," Hermione has him rest his head on her abdomen, right under her bosom. "No falling asleep, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

They study over the next three hours before midnight nears, and Hermione yawns. "Whoops, sorry!"

"Who's the one that said 'no falling asleep'?"

"And who's the one that slept like a kitten on the couch earlier, hmm?" Hermione finally decides upon shutting her book. "What a brilliant day, besides Umbridge, it's been. Here, something to ease your mind over the next few minutes..."

While Hermione's fingers run through his hair, Harry shuts his eyes and smiles. It feels good... it feels great... Something's truly making him feel ecstatic. It has happened at last: they're free, and now manic laughter echoes throughout his mind. Laughter which continues even after Hermione shakes Harry awake.

"What's going on?" he asks, breathing heavily. "Something's happened, something good that's made Voldemort laugh in satisfaction."

"You're the one that was laughing like maniac now, Harry!" Hermione pauses to catch her breath, seemingly still in shock. "What a darn scare that was to have you going on like that while I'm playing with your hair. I suppose I can't blame you, though, since your defences are probably down after a hefty bit of Occlumency practice."

"Maybe you should head back to your common room, get some sleep already."

Hermione holds him tighter before summoning a blanket from Harry's room. "Oh no, not after that little outburst." She now covers them both before resting her hands atop Harry's, at his sides. "Put up those Occlumency defences, Harry, I'm here with you for the night."

Terrified at the prospect of getting possessed and hurting Hermione, Harry battles to clear his mind. He thinks of nothing, of nobody in particular, even ignoring the kiss planted on his head by Hermione as they drift off to sleep.

The following morning sees a most alarming, and yet ridiculous, article headlining the _Daily Prophet._ As they're still in the Room of Requirement, Harry and Hermione receive their copy courtesy of a house elf.

"Well, I guess now we know what's made Voldemort so happy last night," says Harry, after Hermione's read through an article on the mass Azkaban breakout. Her expression, however, appears far more upset than concerned. "Something angering my Mugglebun?"

"I can't believe this last paragraph, honestly! Listen to this rubbish."

Hermione scowls while reading the final paragraphs of the article:

_One wonders if this may be linked to the recent release of Harry Potter from Azkaban. Could the Boy-Who-Lived, recently accused of casting the Killing Curse on a fellow Triwizard Champion, have rallied this mass outbreak? A new Dark wizard gathering the old one's followers for whatever is to come?_

_Let us not forget the successful escape of (the exonerated) Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather. Although Black's been proven innocent, Minister Fudge speculates a link between Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Harry Potter._

_"I was most certainly present on October the 4th, the night of Harry Potter's release," said Minister Fudge last night. "Bellatrix Lestrange: convicted Death Eater and one of the late You-Know-Who's most dangerous followers, was there as well. No, I'm not referring to the fact that she was present in the prison, as expected, but rather that Lestrange was right outside Mr. Potter's cell. Were they fighting or attempting to harm each other? Absolutely not! In fact, Bellatrix Lestrange appears to have been on regular speaking terms with Mr. Potter in the prison. She was already standing at Mr. Potter's cell door before I've arrived on scene with the Aurors. Is that not a cause for grave concern? First the Killing Curse, and now he's on speaking terms with the most dangerous women around?"_

_Investigations are set to commence, and Harry Potter will be expected to appear before the Wizengamot this afternoon._

Unsure of whether to laugh or rip the newspaper to shreds, Harry stands up from the couch. "God, these people are so hilariously stupid! Well, at least they got most of the Bellatrix part right. Ah, baby Bella..."

The newspaper goes flying across the room before Hermione grabs his shoulders. "This isn't a laughing matter, Harry. There goes your chances at returning in time for the O.W.L. exams! Now why did you have to go and pull that wand stunt as well? You're carrying one identical to Voldemort's own."

"If I really am expected before the Wizengamot, then Professor Dumbledore would be expecting me in his office right about now..."

No sooner does Harry finish these words than a flash of golden flame brings him a note.

" _Wine gums,_ " reads Hermione.

"Dumbledore's latest password... quite Muggle-ish if I may say so myself."

Wasting no time, Harry wolves down breakfast before creeping beneath his Cloak towards Dumbledore's office. Fortunately, it appears that Dolores Umbridge has absolutely no idea of his presence within the castle. This comes as a relief since her office is on the same floor as the Headmaster's.

"Quickly, the sooner I get you to the Ministry," says Dumbledore once Harry's at his desk. "The less they can accuse us of delaying, and the better it appears on your behalf." Harry nods, although Dumbledore shakes his head while browsing through more of this morning's newspaper. "Before we leave, have you seen the article on page three? Very artistic, if I may say so myself." Dumbledore spins the _Daily Prophet_ to face Harry, who rolls his eyes.

"I'm not even going to bother reading this," he says, upon seeing an edited picture of him (from the Triwizard Tournament) standing beside a pre-Azkaban version of Bellatrix Lestrange. "What am I seeing here... _Harry Potter, the new Dark Lord?_ Talk about overdoing it with the propaganda..."

"At least they've had the decency to avoid getting pictures of you in prison, Harry. That would've been truly degrading," says Dumbledore, as Harry dons the Invisibility Cloak. "Let's make haste to Hogsmeade village and Disapparate."

Dumbledore and Harry now traverse the second floor, they then descend a few staircases before coming to a halt in the slightly crowded entrance hall. A few familiar faces are seen, including Pansy and the girls in addition to various other students.

"Professor Dumbledore," calls the overly sweet, annoying voice of Umbridge exiting the Great Hall. "You have left our table rather swiftly during breakfast."

"Ah, Dolores, as I'm sure you're aware, Harry Potter is due before the Wizengamot today."

"And am I to presume you are off to prepare the boy for his round of questioning?" Umbridge remains smiling far too much as Harry sees her approaching Dumbledore.

"Prepare? Oh no, I am merely going to make sure Harry's up and ready to leave."

"He ought to remain with his Muggle relatives for good," says Umbridge, whose smile appears forced in place.

"Yes, well," Dumbledore looks around and smiles at various students (of whom most return the gesture). "Harry's always made the best of what he has."

"I object, Headmaster," says Theodore Nott, "Quite a few of us feel that he wasn't living up to Slytherin expectations around here."

It takes a fair bit of discipline for Harry to avoid cursing Nott, who seems to exhibit complete disrespect to his Headmaster.

"Thank you for your input, Mr. Nott, I'll be sure to ask Harry how his plans are coming along—"

"Aha!" says Umbridge, "Finally, the truth is revealed."

"—with regards to his academic future. The O.W.L. exams are of the utmost importance, and Harry is deeply concerned. But who can blame him for wanting to finish his education?" Dumbledore gives a slight shrug, and many of those in support of Harry voice their approval.

"Just bring Harry back already!" says Cedric Diggory to Umbridge. "I think we all know that he's innocent. This newspaper's printing nothing but rubbish these days."

"Need I remind you, Mr. Diggory, of your father being employed by the Ministry?" asks Umbridge. "Detention—"

"Overruled," says Dumbledore calmly, leaving Umbridge to forcibly smile again.

"Of course, _Headmaster_ , of course. Carry on, all."

As the crowd disperses (and Dumbledore slowly turns to exit), Harry smiles at Cedric shaking hands and being patted by many pro-Potter students around.

"That's our boy, that," says Lee Jordan. "Shame on this new, rejected Slytherin team for buying their way to victory."

"Shut up—" Vaisey's retort is interrupted as Fred and George raise their voices alongside Lee Jordan.

"10 Points on the pratometer for Malfoy and Nott for each goal they score in their match!"

"The prat-o—what?" asks Malfoy.

"Pratometer," says a smiling Fred, who produces a parchment depicting what looks like a Muggle speedometer alongside a big arrow. "Measures how much of a prat you are. Let's see..."

"As expected," says a grinning George, once the arrow faces Malfoy, and the needle shoots right over towards the maximum. "Certified prat indeed. He's already nearing maximum anyway, no need for those cheap goals coming against Hufflepuff."

"The pratness is strong with this one," says Dean Thomas, while nodding at a frowning Malfoy.

"Very funny," sneers Malfoy, "Five points from Gryffindor for drawing up stupid pranks to amuse your barn animal brains. Free period now for fifth-year Slytherins. So let's get to the library, boys and girls."

"Nope, sorry," says Pansy, whose voice brings a smile to Harry. "Got other things to do. Right, girls?"

Just before Harry exits the castle, he overhears Nott mocking Fred and George, before Ron can be heard speaking: "Five points from Slytherin for discrimination against fellow students, Nott."

Upon reaching Hogsmeade, Harry side-along Apparates with Dumbledore to Grimmauld Place. Now they rendezvous with Sirius, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, in the dining room for discussions.

"No hard feelings, Potter?" asks Kingsley in his deep voice. "I've been tasked with keeping an eye on your movements, of course."

"None whatsoever," says a grinning Harry. "Couldn't have asked for a better Auror to be tracking me."

"I'm so going to tell Dora about that," says Sirius. "Of course, Kingsley's been feeding the Ministry false information that you're at home with your Muggle relatives. Speaking of whom, the Dursleys have been paid some good quid to go with that lie, if they're ever approached. Given the Ministry's preference of comfort, though, nobody else bothers to actually check if that's true."

"So, how can the Ministry actually blame me for the breakout if I'm at home?" asks Harry.

"Oh, they're not explicitly blaming it directly on you," says Kingsley. "It's a carefully worded 'speculation' coming from Fudge as he tries to solidify his views. As for the article regarding you and Lestrange..."

"Silly propaganda," says Sirius, "At least they edited that picture properly. I wonder how Voldemort reacted upon seeing today's paper?"

"Probably laughed his arse off, assuming he even has one..." Harry grimaces. "Let's not go there."

Dumbledore soon finalises their plans before readying Harry for his very first trip to the Ministry.

"No need to be nervous," says Sirius, "We'll be coming along, more specifically: _Professor Dumbledore_ is travelling with you. Nobody can touch any of us now. Oh, and we're all good wizards, yeah, especially Kingsley."


	17. The Ministry of Magic

"Um, sir, wouldn't it be better for us all to use magic to get into the Ministry of...  _Magic_?" asks Harry, walking beside Dumbledore down another ramshackle street in London. Behind him are Sirius and Kingsley who, much like Dumbledore, are disguised in somewhat formal Muggle clothing courtesy of the Headmaster's spellwork.

"We could Apparate inside the Atrium, perhaps, but arriving in a non-magical fashion ought to give the Ministry something to consider," says Dumbledore. "It will serve to remind them that, beneath all the rumours and Cornelius' accusations, you're still merely an underage wizard."

"What Professor Dumbledore is trying to say, Harry, is that it's best for you to avoid looking pretentious," says Sirius. "A young wizard being side-along Apparated by  _the_ Albus Dumbledore into the Ministry would be quite flashy."

"So... where are we headed?"

Kingsley replies, "An abandoned telephone box at Great Scotland Place, it serves as the visitors' entrance to the Ministry."

The group soon enter the Underground station nearest to Grimmauld Place where Harry tries to boast his Muggle knowledge.

"No need," says Sirius, who purchases tickets for the group. "Or did you forget that I've spent quite a bit of time in the Muggle world? I know how this stuff works."

A few Muggles walk past in the Underground and, the moment they spot Dumbledore, Harry knows what to expect.

"Nice suit, old man," says a Muggle worker.

"Yeah, nice costume too," says another. "But Christmas is over."

"A very good day to you too," greets Dumbledore, who smiles and waves as the group moves on. "We can all use a bit of humour in these times, I daresay."

"With all due respect, sir," says Harry, once they've settled themselves on the train. "It's extremely weird to be travelling like this with you outside of school." He now lowers his voice. "Couldn't we have at least Apparated near the telephone box and walk the distance?"

"Ah," says Dumbledore, "but this is all working in favour for us, Harry. The Ministry plants an occasional worker or two to blend with working areas in the Muggle world. Hopefully, we've been noticed since entering the station."

"Yes," agrees Kingsley, "I spotted at least two workers from other departments on our way down here. There should be at least a handful, if not more, from here until the visitors' entrance."

"Fudge wants to play mind-games, well, so can we," mutters Sirius. "Have faith in us, Harry."

A handful of Muggles now take their seats nearby, and Harry ceases all magical talk. As expected, the group looks from Dumbledore to Sirius to Kingsley to Harry.

"Bloomin' odd group, am I right, mates?" asks one gentleman, while another remains eyeing Harry's group curiously.

Sirius nudges Harry in the side, causing him to speak up. "Oh, yeah, this is my science teacher"—Harry gestures towards a smiling Dumbledore—"who likes to spend all his time in the lab solving problems."

"I dunno," says another Muggle male, "Kids don't travel around this time of the day. What you lot doing with this young lad?" The Muggle glares at Kingsley. "And who are you? Great,  _another_  foreigner around here..."

"Wait a minute," says the third male of the group while looking at Sirius. "Doesn't he look sorta like some guy who was on the telly years back? Can't remember."

"There's billions of people in the world," says Sirius, "Dunno who you're talking about."

"Yeah, Mr Paddy," says Harry, while looking at Sirius. "When we getting the band together for music practice?"

"Tomorrow evening, Hadrian, make sure to tell the rest of your ninth-grade class."

They soon exit the station upon reaching their stop, and now step into the heart of London. Keeping close to Dumbledore, Harry is taken down a broad street lined with massive buildings before heading down a side road. It's not long until they reach the required telephone box.

"Won't this look suspicious to any Muggles passing by?" asks Harry, while approaching the box beside Dumbledore.

"Not quite, since there are a few anti-Muggle enchantments in place to avoid unnecessary witnesses. Now, I want you to use this, as we know Voldemort has spies on the inside." Dumbledore produces a rather plain-looking wand which he swaps with Harry's own.

"Brilliant!" says Harry, "Let him think my core protection is gone. Especially after Umbridge snapped my wand."

Kingsley stands behind them, pretending to watch the road. "You'll be searched with the usual Dark detectors and will be required to produce your wand at security. Dumbledore, however, knows how to smuggle your real wand past them."

"Really?" asks Harry. "Well, of course. You are Professor Dumbledore, after all."

Harry and Dumbledore enter the box first before the former is instructed to dial 62442, which spells 'magic'.

Dumbledore then explains what needs to be said to a female voice in the box. Then, once Harry's stated his name and purpose, Dumbledore smiles. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore..." He then lists a few of his titles before stating that he's here on behalf of Harry's defence.

To Harry's amusement, a silver badge bearing Dumbledore's full name and purpose of visit slides out the coin chute. "Wow, that's a lot of words crammed on one little badge, Professor."

Eventually, after the telephone box sinks into the ground, Harry gawks upon stepping out to one end of a lengthy, splendid hall. Its floors appear well-polished and made of dark wood. Above them spans a peacock blue ceiling adorned with golden symbols, and the dark wood walls at their sides are lined with many gilded fireplaces.

"Floo arrivals on the left side, and departures on the right," says Dumbledore, standing with one hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't look now, but I spot a few Aurors keeping watch on you. There's Dawlish, Proudfoot, Tonks..."

Harry plays it calm while walking beside Dumbledore through the crowd of workers. More than a few heads turn to stare at him while everyone heads off in different directions. The wide variety of propaganda and rumours surrounding him have, no doubt, altered many perceptions of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Are they... scared of me?" asks Harry, before Dumbledore sighs and casts a spell which reverts their clothing to wizard wear.

"Well, your appearance has taken a slight toll since Azkaban... But don't let it dishearten you, Harry. We both know that you're innocent, regardless of what's to be thrown at you today."

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" calls a voice coming from a group of people, near the golden fountain halfway down the hall. "Here he is, and far earlier than expected."

Once the group nears, Harry rolls his eyes upon seeing that they're merely reporters from the  _Daily Prophet_. Soon, a barrage of questions are sent his way which Dumbledore brushes off. Harry, however, spots a cameraman preparing to capture a shot.

"I'm just here to defend myself from all these entertaining stories," says Harry, pausing to smirk as his photograph is taken. "Alright, Professor, let's be off."

"Indeed, Harry," Dumbledore smiles and waves as another picture is taken of them, while they walk away. A short lull is then followed by more questioning as Kingsley and Sirius come up behind the pair.

"My godson is innocent," says Sirius to the reporters, "and it doesn't take much intelligence to see that. Oh, lovely editing on page three, by the way."

They now approach security at a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall. Here, Harry sees Dumbledore being scanned by Dark detectors before having his wand weighed. The scale-like device soon spitting out a piece of parchment which the guard hands over.

"Fifteen inches, elder, thestral hair core, been in use for more than a few decades, correct? Next..."

"Certainly," says Dumbledore, who pockets the rather knobbly-looking wand Harry's always seen him use.

"Oh, Harry Potter!" The guard takes one look at Dumbledore's expression then swiftly remains calm in Harry's presence. "Yes, yes, let me scan you over... all clean. Wand, please?"

Harry withdraws the wand given to him by Dumbledore before setting it onto the wand weigher.

"10 and a half inches, maple, unicorn hair. Been issued for barely a few weeks, correct?"

"That is correct," says Dumbledore, before Harry can respond. "As you may have heard, Mr. Potter could only recently acquire a new wand. However, as he's currently spending most of his time with his Muggle relatives, it's been nigh impossible to make use of ."

"But we have detected the activation of the Trace quite often since Harry Potter's left Azkaban," says the guard.

"In which location?" asks Dumbledore. "Mr. Potter has been escorted by Aurors a few times which may have triggered the Trace, as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is well aware. Has there been any activation of the Trace around the area of Little Whinging when Aurors were not known to be making contact with Mr. Potter?"

"No, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir," says the guard.

"Well, I assure you that Kingsley Shacklebolt is tracking his movements."

"But I still don't understand why Harry Potter's been allowed a wand if he's no longer attending Hogwarts?" asks the guard, to which Dumbledore replies:

"For the same reason there are underage witches and wizards being homeschooled. Attendance to Hogwarts is very much preferred, yes, although optional. Kingsley has personally been monitoring Mr. Potter's whereabouts and seen nothing amiss. It is up to Harry to resist casting spells until we succeed in bringing him back to school. Of course, should he use magic in the company of his Muggle relatives, Madam Hopkirk will know right away. As will Kingsley, in case you have forgotten. Anything else?"

"No, sir," says the guard. "Carry on, and have a good day."

After Kingsley and Sirius are checked, the group steps away from the security desk. They now head through the golden gates into a smaller hall ahead containing many lifts. Fortunately, they remain somewhat empty around this time of the morning as Harry, Sirius, Kingsley, and Dumbledore enter.

"Don't get too familiar," whispers Sirius to Harry, as Tonks and Proudfoot enter the lift. "They're keeping it as official as possible, maintaining watch over you."

"So, Tonks," says Proudfoot, "We heading up to Level Two now?"

"Yeah," Tonks appears to be ignoring Harry's presence, in order to avoid seeming too friendly to him. "Kingsley will maintain surveillance while the rest of us head back to the office."

The lift shudders as it ascends many floors before opening up on Level Two, where Tonks and Proudfoot exit. Harry tries to follow but is swiftly held back by Sirius.

"Maybe some other time, I know you'd love to see the Auror Headquarters, though. Dora's deliberately teasing you like this."

Indeed, Harry looks ahead to briefly catch a glimpse of Tonks winking at him as she rounds a corner. Meanwhile, the lift descends a few floors before stopping on Level Five, where a familiar face enters.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry looks ahead to see a hand being held out, which he shakes. "Mr. Crouch, sir! Is everything alright, um, considering who we know is still out there."

"Yes, yes," replies Mr. Crouch hastily. "Thank you for not, you know... anyway, I ought to ask you the same question, boy."

"He'll be fine, Bartemius," says Sirius. "Let's see if Cornelius Fudge is as wicked while questioning young lads as you were. Not that I even got a chance, though."

"Be calm," says Mr. Crouch to Harry as the lift climbs. "I know how these trials or questioning sessions work, of course. No doubt the Minister will emphasize the proof of your Killing Curse use, and Lestrange being outside your cell. Don't deny using that Curse as it'll make you look like a liar before the Wizengamot. Accept it and let Fudge have his moment of triumph, then let Dumbledore speak in your defence. Also, look everyone in the eye as they speak, don't fidget too much. As for Lestrange, well, it's not like you had any control over who approached you in there."

The lift now stops at Level Seven.

"Department of Magical Games and Sports is here?" asks Harry, as Mr. Crouch is about to leave.

"Yes," says Mr. Crouch. "Never been to the Ministry before?"

"I wonder if Ludo Bagman still in office?" asks Harry.

"He certainly is, and by some luck," says Kingsley, while Sirius eyes Harry intently.

"Funny you should ask about Bagman," says Mr. Crouch. "I was just about to discuss... well... I hope our decision regarding the outcome of the Triwizard Tournament hasn't caused any ill feelings? There's only so much I can do while representing our side in International Magical Cooperation—"

Kingsley holds the lift for Mr. Crouch to continue his conversation with Harry.

"—I've tried to negotiate with them, the French specifically, but a lot seem opposed to you sharing the prize."

"Great, so Beauxbatons does actually hate me. Can't blame them, though, that was their Head Girl that went.."

"On the contrary," says Mr. Crouch. "The Beauxbatons delegation from last year seemed quite supportive of you. It's more their Ministry counterparts that are hesitant in the matter. Well, I must be going now. Best of luck for your trial, not everyone believes you're a growing evil, Mr. Potter."

Mr. Crouch exits the lift, leaving Harry, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Kingsley to descend to Level Nine.

"Does anyone think"—Dumbledore looks around at Sirius and Kingsley—"that it's unusually convenient to be holding such a trial for Harry down in the old courtrooms?"

"Lucius Malfoy's influence, no doubt," mutters Sirius, who sighs upon seeing Harry's curious expression. "Dumbledore, it's no use keeping this one a secret from Harry... we're about to pass through the floor. My godson's one inquisitive young Slytherin anyway."

"I hope your Occlumency has been going well?" asks Kingsley, eliciting a nod from Harry as Dumbledore speaks.

"Level Nine is the—" He pauses as the cool female voice of the lift announces:

"Department of Mysteries."

The golden grilles of the lift open to a corridor that has Harry's eyes widening. He swiftly looks from Sirius to Kingsley to Dumbledore, all of whom watch him intently.

"This is the place!" whispers Harry, "I've seen it so many times in my dreams! And there's..." He looks ahead to see a closed black door, the only one in this corridor. "There's that door I've been trying to open all this time..."

"Eyes ahead," mutters Sirius, "Now this surely isn't a coincidence at all!"

A familiar man with sleek blond hair slowly walks down the windowless corridor towards them. His cold, grey eyes instantly lock onto Harry at the front of the group.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Lucius Malfoy," replies Harry, his voice filled with dislike.

"That would be  _Mr. Malfoy_  to you, Potter." His smug expression instantly fades upon seeing Dumbledore moving to stand right beside Harry. "Fancying a stroll before going to court? Your trial isn't until this afternoon."

"Yeah well, I'm here now," says Harry. "Come on, why not save everyone the hassle and get the Wizengamot out right now?"

"And who do you think you are, to be giving me orders, Potter?"

"He's  _my_  godson, Malfoy," says Sirius, "and a heck of a better Slytherin than you could ever hope to be."

"Now, now," Mr. Malfoy darts his eyes to Kingsley, "Let us not cause provocations before an esteemed Auror. Not going to spread any lies of someone's return now, Black, I hope?"

"This corridor doesn't seem a very interesting place for a stroll, Lucius," says Dumbledore calmly. "What might you be doing down here at this time?"

"I'm expecting Cornelius Fudge," says Mr. Malfoy, "who's agreed to share details of Potter's questioning with me." He appears slightly unnerved by Dumbledore's piercing stare. "Now, I must be off to Level One to inform Cornelius of your early arrival."

Harry spots Mr. Malfoy giving him an odd look while entering the lifts. "I think he wanted me to see this place, probably ordered by Voldemort to check my reaction."

"There can be no doubt about that," says Dumbledore. "Lucius seems to have overlooked the inconsistency of his story."

Kingsley nods in agreement. "He just said he was waiting for the Minister, and yet he's off to go and speak with him."

"What's behind that black door, sir?" asks Harry to Dumbledore.

"Things best left unspoken of, Harry. Now that I think about it, Dolores was hoping I wouldn't be present at your trial."

"Could she be working with Voldemort?" asks Harry.

"No," says Dumbledore, "playing into his hands, perhaps, but not willingly working for him."

Sirius laughs rather dryly. "I hope Malfoy wasn't expecting Harry to come down here with too little protection? Don't tell me he was willing to wait who knows how long to Imperius Harry beyond that door?"

"He can try," says Harry, "but just ask Professor Moody or Lord Voldemort and they'll tell you that I can resist it."

"Let us get to the courtroom," says Dumbledore, "and await the Wizengamot. Bartemius gave you some wise advice earlier, Harry. I hope you've remembered it."

The group now descends a staircase to the left of the windowless corridor which takes them to courtroom ten. A rather dungeon-like room capable of seating the entire Wizengamot now coming into view. As instructed, Harry takes his seat in the centre of the room on a chair covered with chains. They bind Harry by the wrists and ankles, before Kingsley reminds him to remain calm.

"This is an accusation chair, Potter, and binds those accused of serious charges. The keyword is  _accused_ , so don't feel guilty."

"How dare they do this to my godson," mutters Sirius, seated nearby. Meanwhile, Dumbledore stands patiently awaiting the empty seats around to be filled. Soon, startled Wizengamot members (wearing rather annoying robes, in Harry's opinion) trickle into the courtroom. Chief of them is Fudge, who also appears most vocal.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore? Dragging us down here when the session isn't scheduled until this afternoon?"

"Good morning, Cornelius," Dumbledore conjures up a squashy chintz armchair beside Harry, which he takes a seat in. "Given the nature of the accusations, and recurrent newspaper 'speculations' on Mr. Potter, do you not agree that it's essential we sit him down for questioning as soon as possible?"

To Harry's surprise, Dolores Umbridge shows up in Wizengamot robes as well, clearly unsettled by the unexpected trial. Then again, Harry's sallow skin, fairly sunken cheeks, and darkened rings around his eyes also give much reason for surprise. His appearance alone is enough to have a few of the Wizengamot murmuring among each other.

"Silence, please," says Fudge, while deciding upon letting everyone trickle into the room and take their seats. "Very well, Dumbledore, I suppose we can all drop whatever we're doing in favour of bringing the accused to justice."

A familiar little cough is followed by Umbridge raising her hand to speak. "Forgive me for intruding, Minister, but I would like to state my displeasure at being called away from my duties. This unfair rescheduling on part of Professor Dumbledore has disrupted my fourth year class with Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Classes can be rescheduled, Professor Umbridge. But surely a questioning session involving the so-called 'next Dark Lord' Harry Potter takes priority?" asks Dumbledore.

"Where is Rita Skeeter these days?" asks Umbridge, "We need someone to follow proceedings... alright, Percy Weasley will do as scribe."

"Right," says Fudge, "Harry James Potter, of Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, you have been brought before the Wizengamot for questions regarding the recent mass breakout of Azkaban prison. Witness for the defence of the accused, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Might I add," says Dumbledore after raising his hand, "that Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror in charge of tracking the accused's movements, will provide input when needed?"

"Fine, fine, yes, okay," says Fudge before looking at Harry, sitting in the chained chair as though it's a throne. "Do you understand the seriousness of this situation, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, I do."

"Do you understand the strong evidence pointing in your direction regarding this escape?"

"No, I don't," responds Harry, causing Fudge to be taken aback while a few Wizengamot members look on. "Please enlighten me, Minister."

"Alright then," says Fudge, "let me remind us all then. Ahem, in 1994, Harry Potter entered the Triwizard Tournament illegally via conspiring with Igor Karkaroff, who's been declared mostly innocent. Mr. Karkaroff is currently in hiding at an undisclosed location for fear of his own safety, lest Mr. Potter stage a retaliation for Mr. Karkaroff's testimony—"

Dumbledore raises his hand and is permitted to speak. "Which I believe has been deemed irrelevant regardless of being obtained under Veritaserum?"

"Ah, of course, yes," says Fudge, "Due to the nature of Mr. Potter's abilities, no doubt. Allow me to remind us all about the definitive proof of the accused's former wand showing the Killing Curse last year. A then fourteen year old producing such a powerful Curse! Have you indeed produced that Unforgivable Curse, Mr. Potter? A Curse that requires tremendous amount of power and, especially, an  _immense_ desire to commit murder, to kill, to take the life of another being..."

All heads turn to Harry, who remains seated upright in his chair. "Yes, I have. The incantation is  _Avada Kedavra_ , and the wand movement is permanently etched on my forehead, in case anyone needs a reminder."

Banging his mallet on the desk, Fudge silences the whispering crowd. "Silence, thank you. Mr. Potter, need I remind you that this is a most serious court of law and not a schoolyard for humour?"

"I was not joking, Minister."

"Let us carry on with proceedings, Cornelius," says Dumbledore, "You were reminding us of the evidence against the accused."

"An adolescent capable of producing such a Killing Curse, one that has claimed of the life an older Triwizard Champion..." says Fudge, "has served a remarkably short stint in Azkaban. Let us not get into the circumstances surrounding Mr. Potter's unusually short punishment for his actions. Bear in mind that the accused has first-hand knowledge of Azkaban, in addition to having a godfather who's personally escaped the prison..." Fudge pauses as if letting his words sink into the Wizengamot members before continuing. "Not many of those convicted of such a Curse actually leave the prison alive, Mr. Potter."

"I am very fortunate, yes," replies Harry. "Fortunate enough to have good people on my side—"

"Enough," says Fudge.

"Great people, in fact. Professor Dumbledore being chief among them, an esteemed wizard who's accomplished feats most can only dream of—"

More banging of the mallet is followed by Fudge narrowing his eyes. "You will not speak without raising your hand, understand?"

"They're chained down, sir."

A slight snigger can be heard coming from Sirius behind Harry, as Fudge corrects himself.

"You will not speak unless permitted to, understand?"

"Yes, Minister."

"Cornelius," says Dumbledore, while sitting with the tips of his long fingers together. "Surely it does not seem that you have overlooked the seriousness of your accusations against Mr. Potter?"

"Explain yourself, Dumbledore," says Fudge.

"The accusation chair binds its chains in accordance to the severity of accusations against the accused. Mr. Potter is quite clearly well and truly bound—"

"Thank you for reminding us of what we can all clearly see, Dumbledore."

"—then why, Cornelius, have you made such an obvious slip of the tongue? You have warned the accused not to speak unless he raises his hand."

Fudge appears to be getting fairly red in his cheeks while glaring at Dumbledore. "It was a simple matter of mistaken words."

"Ah, of course," says a smiling Dumbledore. "This, coming from the highest official in the Ministry of Magic. There's certainly no lack of 'mistaken' words in the  _Daily Prophet_  against Mr. Potter and I, is there?"

"I'm not responsible for typing out the  _Daily Prophet's_ articles, Dumbledore. Surely we'd all know that?" asks Fudge, while many, including Umbridge and Percy Weasley smile at his retort.

"I was referring to your well-versed quotes and speeches, Cornelius, even those given on the spot. A man of your calibre is beyond a mere slip of the tongue. Perhaps..." Dumbledore looks around at the many members watching this little exchange. "it was not so much a mistake than simply showing what Cornelius might truly be thinking of the accused? If it were, say, Bellatrix Lestrange sitting here... would you have made such a slip?"

"Look at him!" says Fudge, "I've only slipped because of Mr. Potter's deceptive nature. He comes across as a plain young man but, deep down, there lies a potential for evil!"

"May I speak?" asks Harry, "I mean, I know I'm technically speaking now but since my hands are tied I need to verbally request... unless I should start thrashing around wildly as a sign—"

"Enough rubbish talk, Mr. Potter!" says a red-faced Fudge. "Speak what you intend to speak."

"With regards to what you just said about me... and that supposed 'evil' deep down. I'd like to quote a great man who's once told me something important."

"I don't have time for quotes," says Fudge. "This is a criminal trial, not a sappy drama show."

"Let the boy speak, Cornelius, or are you afraid of what he has to say?" asks Dumbledore.

Judging by the expressions of the Wizengamot members, Harry knows he's allowed to speak:

"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

The silence of the courtroom is broken by Umbridge who (somewhat mockingly) claps her hands. "A very well rehearsed speech, Mr. Potter. So, going by that, kindly explain your use of the most vile spell in existence?"

"May I speak, sir?" asks Harry, causing Fudge to simply look at him.

"You have already been granted permission to speak, Mr. Potter, as Madam Umbridge has asked you a question."

"Yes, but she is the Senior  _Undersecretary_ , I was requesting permission to speak from the higher ranking official."

"Just answer Madam Umbridge's question already!" says Fudge.

"Very well," Harry looks at the smiling Umbridge. "I had come face-to-face with the most evil man in existence. A man who has chosen to act upon the darkness inside of him."

"Yourself, I presume?" asks Umbridge.

"Lord Voldemort."

The name alone causes quite a stir among the crowd, and Fudge repeatedly bangs his mallet while raising his voice. "Silence! I will not stand for such delusional accusations in this courtroom. Mr. Potter is quite clearly attempting to derail this trial with his blatant lies!"

"But, as a I've heard via a letter from a good friend..." says Harry, while staring at Umbridge. " _I must not tell lies_. Shall I bring to light certain methods used in deten—"

"Enough! Carry on with the trial, Minister," says Umbridge hastily. "Carry on with proceedings."

Harry looks to Dumbledore who gives a slight shake of the head before whispering:

"Leave it, Miss Granger isn't present as a witness."

"As I was saying earlier," says Fudge, "The accused stands potentially guilty of engineering yesterday's mass breakout. He is capable of using the Killing Curse and, as I've stated to the press already, been in contact with Bellatrix Lestrange within Azkaban itself."

"Cornelius," says Dumbledore, "It seems as if we are going in circles with this 'trial'. You are merely repeating information we have all heard before. Are you reminding us or, more likely, reminding yourself of what to believe? You're a wise man, Cornelius, wise enough to have climbed the ranks of the Ministry. There should be no need to constantly repeat such information out loud. Besides, you've already agreed upon, and Mr. Potter has served, the punishment for his use of that Curse."

"May I speak?" Harry savours the annoyed look on Fudge's face as he's given permission. "Yes, I will not deny that I've spoken to Bellatrix Lestrange in Azkaban."

"A rather friendly bit of conversation with such a dangerous woman, might I add?" asks Fudge, bringing a smile to Harry's face.

"Should I have provoked an unnecessary fight behind bars, Minister? Insult her all you want, but Bellatrix is a witch of many talents and abilities—"

"Aha!" says Umbridge, "See? He praises a known Death Eater, and he smiles about it as well."

"But it's the truth and I must not tell lies, correct?" Harry sees the slight change in Umbridge's expression. "Just because I've acknowledged the immense capabilities of Bellatrix does not automatically brand me evil, does it?"

"Why do you refer to her on first-name basis?" asks Fudge, "That suggests a level of...  _familiarity_?"

"Mr. Potter," says Dumbledore, "is known to address a fair amount of females on first-name basis."

"But a Death Eater,  _that_ Death Eater?" asks Fudge.

"Quite clearly the dementors have clouded the accused's judgement while he was behind bars," says Dumbledore. "After all, we need only look at him to see the effects of throwing such a young man into Azkaban. I might even refer to one of Miss Skeeter's articles from last year, in which she's complimented Mr. Potter's physical appearance back then."

"That will not be necessary, Dumbledore," says Fudge, "and it is subjective, after all. I fail to see how this is relevant to our trial."

"Exactly," says Dumbledore, "Just what is the point of this trial anyway? Has there even been a need for any of us to refer to specific clauses and rules in proving our opinions? I call upon Kingsley Shacklebolt, a veteran Auror, to testify with regards to Mr. Potter's movements up until today."

Kingsley steps forward and immediately states that Harry's been at Privet Drive this whole time. That, and the fact of him hardly receiving any visitors besides his godfather on occasion.

"Are we to just take the word of one Auror?" asks Umbridge. "One whom you are quite friendly with, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Then, are you suggesting that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is unable to do its job effectively, Madam Umbridge?" asks Dumbledore, to which Madam Bones raises her hand.

"My Department and its workers are functioning at optimum capacity. Feel free to carry out any inquiries, should you so wish, Madam Senior Undersecretary."

The debate continues, and Harry can't help but feel a growing sense of pride as Dumbledore questions and shuts down every accusation sent by the Minister. Fudge may hold the political power, but it's evident that Albus Dumbledore is simply the superior wizard here.

"The facts remain," says Dumbledore, "that Harry Potter has been with his Muggle relatives since serving his sentence. Only on some occasion does he journey across London with his godfather. I'm sure more than a few Ministry workers could attest to seeing Mr. Potter in the company of Sirius Black around London? After all, we had journeyed here on foot to make use of the visitors' entrance."

"Why the unnecessary hassle, Dumbledore? A man of your talents ought to capable of Apparition," says Fudge.

"Unfortunately, Harry Potter, whom you suspect of being the 'next Dark Lord' is but merely a child." Dumbledore looks around and slightly smiles at the various nods. "An underage wizard incapable of getting into the Ministry without using the telephone box outside."

"Incapable enough to throw a Killing Curse?" asks Umbridge.

"That point is irrelevant today, as the wand that's performed such a feat has been snapped," says Dumbledore. "In addition, Mr. Potter has already served his sentence, as I've said, and has clearly been negatively affected by the dementors of Azkaban." He now walks closer to Fudge's seat. "Cornelius, I implore you to see reason, we both know that Voldemort's back—"

"He's not back!"

"—and here you are wasting both time and the life of a young man." Dumbledore points at Harry while speaking. "He's fifteen, Cornelius,  _fifteen._ It's supposed to be his fifth year at school... Ordinary Wizarding Level exam year. Your accusations and speculations are ill-founded. The fact is that they're coming at the expense of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Better he's kept at home and away from the Death Eaters," says Fudge. "Wouldn't want him learning from them, eh? Learn a few tricks which they've remembered from their late master."

"Then let Harry return to school, let him learn from proper schooling staff," says Dumbledore. "You've already placed Madam Umbridge to keep watch over the school, haven't you?"

"I refuse to place him within reach of you, Dumbledore, lest you start conspiring with him," says Fudge. "How can we believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? There's simply no proof."

"And there's simply no proof that Harry's involved with the Azkaban breakout," says Dumbledore.

"The evidence—"

"Is circumstantial at the utmost best, and more likely to be pure speculation." Dumbledore eyes Fudge quite imposingly. "You have the power to call the verdict on Harry returning to school. Do so now, and let it be decided upon fairly."

"Irrelevant to this trial," says Fudge, who goes silent while looking around. "That debate is due for February."

"All those in favour of the accused being not guilty of instigating the mass breakout?" asks Madam Bones, before at least half the Wizengamot raise their hands. "All those in favour of conviction?"

Fudge, Umbridge, and a few others now raise their hands. But as most are in Harry's favour, Fudge barely contains his anger while speaking. "Cleared of all charges pertaining to the breakout."

The chains release themselves as Harry looks ahead to see one  _Daily Prophet_ worker being allowed a picture. A flash of light captures the Minister locking eyes with the Boy-Who-Lived, before Harry gets up from his seat. Black robes billow about as he strides out the courtroom like an overgrown bat, ignoring anyone who tries to approach him (besides Sirius, Kingsley or Dumbledore).

Back in the windowless corridor, Harry looks left to stare at the plain black door for awhile. But he soon decides upon heading for the lift as the rest of his group arrives.

"I didn't even need to speak," says Sirius, "You've done well, Harry."

"The Minister is definitely feeling insulted after looking like a fool today," says Kingsley, while Harry smiles at Dumbledore.

"You were brilliant in there, Professor."

"I like to think that I've tried, yes. It's just a tremendous pity that we couldn't convince him to officially bring you back to school."

"Now do you understand why Tonks and I got you that Christmas gift?" asks Sirius. "You absolutely cannot afford to be discovered by the wrong person at school, Harry."

"I think," says Kingsley, "that Arthur would appreciate hearing the outcome of Potter's trial. Shall we visit him?"

"Indeed, and Harry would get to satisfy his curiosity regarding the Auror Headquarters," says Dumbledore.

"Why would anyone allow  _me_  in there? Am I not classified a 'dangerous wizard' these days?"

"Simple," says a smiling Dumbledore, "I am with you."

They arrive at Level Two and step out to head down a corridor lined with doors and enchanted windows. Then, the group rounds the corner before passing through a pair of heavy oak doors into the Auror Headquarters: a cluttered open area divided into cubicles. Many Aurors sit at their desks as a vibrant buzz hangs about the large room. Departmental memos go zipping about in the air while the Aurors appear rather relaxed, until one of them spots Harry.

"WHAT THE—?" The ponytailed Auror wearing red robes knocks over his mug of coffee. He then jumps up from his seat while clutching his pocketed wand. "Kingsley, what is  _Harry Potter_  doing in our headquarters?"

All chatter and laughter cease as many heads look over their cubicles. It's clear that Harry's presence unsettles the Dark wizard catchers who are as cautious as expected.

"I am taking him to see Arthur Weasley. Unfortunately, there is no other way except through our headquarters," says Kingsley, before the Head Auror (but not Head of Department) Rufus Scrimgeour eventually arrives on scene.

"Kingsley," he says, "I'd have expected better judgment from your side. How can you bring the very wizard you are tasked to track right into our den of operations?"

"Don't worry," says a smiling Harry, "the only person I'm out to kill is Lord Voldemort."

A growing buzz of chatter begins to echo around the room. Meanwhile, Harry finds himself in a staring contest with Scrimgeour.

"I see you've taken a page from Dumbledore and freely speak He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's name. But you are not Dumbledore, are you?"

"I'm the next best thing," Harry's slight nervousness is tempered by the presence of Dumbledore coming up right behind him.  _Oh yeah, you bully bitches, I got the main boss man with me. Suck on that!_

"Professor Dumbledore," says Scrimgeour politely, "A pleasure to see you fancying a visit to our department."

"Harry is here to see Arthur Weasley, Rufus, and I fail to see an alternative route to Arthur's office." Dumbledore looks around while comparing the size of this room to Mr. Weasley's. "Now, if Arthur had been granted a more suitable place of work then you needn't have feared Harry Potter treading through your headquarters."

"Feared?" Scrimgeour maintains his polite expression. "Oh no, we are merely cautious, you see? Understandably cautious."

"Understandably ignorant as well," says Harry, who moves just an inch closer to Dumbledore while looking at Scrimgeour. "All the N.E.W.T.s achieved between you and your colleagues, and yet nobody can understand that Voldemort's back."

"But you must understand that these rumours are hard to prove," says Scrimgeour.

"Considering that Harry has just been found innocent on that regard," says Dumbledore, "it would be foolish to assume that Voldemort is not responsible for the mass breakout."

"If we are done discussing a topic against Ministry regulations, you are free to visit Arthur Weasley, Mr. Potter," says Scrimgeour.

"I don't need your permission," Harry scoffs while looking around at the various Aurors. "I'll go wherever I want and talk to whoever I want."

"This boy lacks discipline," says a male Auror somewhere in the room. "Who does he think he is coming in here and talking hard?"

"Leave him, man, he's just a kid," says Tonks. "And he's not having the best of time around his age."

"Kingsley," says Scrimgeour, "be sure to keep Mr. Potter away from your cubicle. Carry on."

"Yes," says Harry, "and you can carry on being in denial of Voldemort's return. Not like you ever went head-to-head with him like I did. Oh, but nobody believes my graveyard story, right? I shot an  _Avada Kedavra_ at Voldemort himself, screw the rules! Too bad I didn't quite get him."

"Let's go pay a visit to Mr. Weasley," says Dumbledore, keen on leading Harry away from the rather tense atmosphere in the Auror Department.

They now make their way through the cluttered room before opening a door at its far end, which leads to a few more corridors. Kingsley stays behind while the trio of Harry, Sirius, and Dumbledore continue down a winding shabby corridor. Eventually, they reach a dead end before passing through a door on its left. To Harry's surprise, they now stand in a broom cupboard with a door on their right labelled  _Misuse of Muggle Artefacts._

After knocking on the door, Harry steps back as it opens to an astonished Mr. Weasley.

"Harry? Sirius? Dumbledore? Good lord, now this is a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in!" He welcomes them into his dingy office crammed with two desks, and its walls lined with overflowing filing cabinets. Mr. Weasley's assistant, Perkins, appears to be out of office at the moment as the trio make themselves comfortable. "Harry, isn't your trial only this afternoon?"

"Nope, it's over and done with already."

"Really?" Mr. Weasley looks from Harry to Sirius to Dumbledore. "Truly?"

"Yes," says Sirius, "and thanks to the combined efforts of Kingsley, Harry, and Dumbledore, Fudge looked like a fool in the end."

Mr. Weasley beams with a smile. "So, Harry's back at school? Oh, Molly would be ecstatic if she heard this. It's about time, you see, and—"

"Arthur," Dumbledore's smile fades a slight bit while speaking. "That's still up for debate, unfortunately."

"Oh, I see." Mr. Weasley remains smiling, nonetheless. "Chin up, Harry, it's only a matter of time until all this naivety and lies are exposed."

Harry looks around and spots a few Muggle items laying about, which Mr. Weasley eagerly explains to him.

"Here we go," says Sirius, taking a seat at the empty desk while Dumbledore exits to speak with Kingsley in the corridor.

"See this one? I believe the Muggles use it to make their toast! I just finished removing a pestering jinx that made this toaster hiccup. It's not funny when it ends up in the hands of Muggles. Statute of Secrecy and all that."

Harry nods as Mr. Weasley continues to explain the workings of his department. "I don't understand why they won't give you a better office, Mr. Weasley. Those Auror jerks get that huge section for their cubicles. Sure, catching a Dark wizard is important, but so is preserving the secrecy of our world."

"Don't worry about it too much, Harry. We, that is to say Perkins and I, make do with what we've got. It seems that Muggle-baiting is on the rise, and even more so following yesterday's breakout. People are getting bolder with their discrimination and it's not looking good. Anyway, you must be starving after all those debates..."

Sirius and Harry each grab a slice of toast packed in by Mrs. Weasley for her husband. The latter having more than enough lunch for the day.

"Right, Arthur, nice popping in for the day but you've got lots of work to do, as usual," says Sirius, gesturing Harry to exit the office.

"You two stay out of trouble, alright?" Mr. Weasley smiles at them as they turn to leave. "Perhaps Molly and I will pop in at your place sometime? Cheers!"

They rejoin Dumbledore and Kingsley while returning to the Auror Department, and Harry sighs upon being watched yet again. This time he looks at the Auror who's spilt his coffee earlier, and Harry now shakes his head.

"When the truth comes out and Voldemort's return is announced, well, I'll remember who took me as a joke."

The ponytailed Auror, called Williamson, speaks without even looking at Harry. "You may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but all of us here worked our arses off to get into this department. You have no right to come and strong-arm us just because you're being escorted by Professor Dumbledore, kid."

"Speak to me when you go head-to-head with Voldemort all alone," says Harry, who rolls his eyes at the collective unease from hearing the Dark Lord's name. "Oh, and it was quite fun speaking with Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Harry," says Dumbledore, gesturing towards the corridor leading to the lifts. "Let's head home."

"You know what?" Williamson sighs while standing up and exiting his cubicle. "I haven't seen a kid disrespect us Aurors like this in a long time, if ever." He now draws his wand. "Let's see what the Boy-Who-Lived is capable of, a quick duel, shall we?"

"Leave him, Williamson," says Tonks, standing up from her cubicle. "I just said he's only a kid going through a rough patch at the moment."

More Aurors now step out to view the commotion as Tonks continues to request that Williamson back off.

"Why are you getting so protective over this kid? Is it because he's your cousin's godson?"

Sirius tries to step forward but is stopped by Dumbledore as Harry speaks again. "Unfortunately, Auror, I can't do magic outside of school. Underage, remember? Do you feel tough brandishing your wand at a fifteen year old?"

"Don't try the innocent act, Potter," says Williamson, "You were the one coming in here and trash talking my colleagues and I. Such a blatant disregard for authority. I tell you what, I'll take responsibility for your spellcasting and file a report to Madam Hopkirk. Now, let's have a quick round."

"Like I'm supposed to trust this Ministry," scoffs Harry, "Next thing I know, it's back down in the courtrooms with Fudge." He then turns around and waves his hand dismissively at the slightly red-faced Williamson.

"So, I guess we can see that you're all bark and no bite, young Potter. Where's that Gryffindor spirit, huh?"

Harry grins while looking over his shoulder. "Double check your facts, I'm a Slytherin, in case you've been living under a rock all your life."

"Arrogant little—"

"Just let the kid go," says Tonks, "Weren't we all like this around his age?"

Williamson pockets his wand once more. "You're lucky my colleague stopped me, kid."

"You're lucky you didn't attack an underage wizard in your department, Auror. So wise and such a top achiever in school, yet you refuse to believe that Voldemort really is back," says Harry. "Oh well, I suppose you'll all wake up when it's too late..."

He turns on his heels to exit the department beside Sirius and Dumbledore. The group now make their way around a corner towards the lift taking them to Level Eight.

"What a morning, huh?" asks Sirius, "I wonder what the newspapers are going to write about you this time?"

"Don't know, don't care." Harry soon steps out the lift beside Sirius and Dumbledore as they now head towards the visitors' exit. As always, the atrium appears crowded with witches and wizards, although noticeably less than earlier this morning. Many workers would be well settled into their daily routine by now while Harry and the rest prepare to exit the Ministry of Magic.

"Harry Potter," calls another reporter as the trio walk down the atrium hallway. "A few words for the  _Daily Prophet_?"

"Like what?" asks Harry, "Have you lot finally exhausted your unending well of propaganda against Professor Dumbledore and I?"

"What are your plans now that you're still expelled from school?"

Shrugging nonchalantly, Harry replies, "I'll go home and get some sleep, whatever, bye."

And with that, he steps into the telephone box alongside Sirius while Dumbledore reverts them back to Muggle wear. Soon, Kingsley arrives to join the group headed back to Grimmauld Place.

"We'll use side-along Apparition this time, Harry," says Dumbledore as the telephone box arrives at street level. "From the empty gardens nearby to Sirius' place."

"Thank you, sir, it's been a rather fine morning... I think."

 


	18. Skirmish on the Slopes

Following his trial on Tuesday morning, Harry spends the day at Grimmauld Place before returning to Hogwarts at lunch hour on Wednesday. No sooner does he arrive back in the Room of Requirement than Hermione stands holding a copy of Wednesday's  _Daily Prophet._

"Well, hello there, my beautiful Mugglebun—huh?"

She runs to grab him into a hug, her embrace exactly what he's been waiting for since his trial.

"I can't believe you wriggled your way out of everything that's happened yesterday! The whole school's seen this morning's newspaper and it's caused a heck of a stir." She drags him to the couch, now positioned along the side of the practice area.

"Whoa, is that the front page?" He lays against Hermione as they read through the article. Its title, big and bold around a picture of him glaring at Fudge, immediately catches his attention:

**_FACE OF EVIL: HARRY POTTER AGAINST THE WIZENGAMOT_ **

_Even while chained to the accusation chair, Harry Potter, 15, sat as bold as brass before Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. The Boy-Who-Lived appeared utterly unfazed by the entire Wizengamot bearing down on him in courtroom ten, yesterday morning. Accompanied by his godfather, Sirius Black, as well as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mr. Potter initially arrived hours early for his trial._

_"No respect at all," said Fudge yesterday afternoon. "The boy barged into the old courtroom and simply demanded his trial then and there._   _Of course, given the seriousness of the situation, we rescheduled it accordingly._ "

_Minister Fudge then proceeded to question the accused as usual, and we've provided a transcript obtained from Percy Weasley, Junior Assistant to the Minister._

_Fudge: Do you understand the seriousness of this situation, Mr. Potter?_

_Potter: Yes, I do._

_Fudge: Do you understand the strong evidence pointing in your direction regarding this escape?_

_Potter: No, I don't. Please enlighten me, Minister._

_Fudge: Alright then, let me remind us all then. In 1994, Harry Potter entered the Triwizard Tournament illegally via conspiring with Igor Karkaroff, who's been declared mostly innocent. Mr. Karkaroff is currently in hiding at an undisclosed location for fear of his own safety, lest Mr. Potter stage a retaliation for Mr. Karkaroff's testimony—_

_Dumbledore: Which I believe has been deemed irrelevant regardless of being obtained under Veritaserum?_

_Fudge: Ah, of course, yes. Due to the nature of Mr. Potter's abilities, no doubt. Allow me to remind us all about the definitive proof of the accused's former wand showing the Killing Curse last year. A then fourteen year old producing such a powerful Curse! Have you indeed produced that Unforgivable Curse, Mr. Potter? A Curse that requires tremendous amount of power and, especially, an immense desire to commit murder, to kill, to take the life of another being..._

_Potter: Yes, I have. The incantation is Avada Kedavra, and the wand movement is permanently etched on my forehead, in case anyone needs a reminder._

Hermione looks at Harry as he grins while reading. "Gosh, you just don't let up, do you? Even before the full Wizengamot you're still a sarcastic little Snakey."

"Haven't you read this already? There's no way my Hermione would walk around with an unread newspaper. Impossible to resist."

"Yes, but I wanted to hear you read it, and let you see just how... argh you are!"

Harry laughs. " _Argh_  I am? What's that mean, hmm? I like it when you make that sound, Hermione, yep."

He continues to read through the transcript of his trial, and both students laugh at the incident of Fudge's slip up with words.

"I can't believe the Minister made such a mistake with regards to your chains," says Hermione, "and Professor Dumbledore pounced on it right away."

"I annoyed the crap out of Fudge after that," Harry smiles while seeing Hermione shaking her head at him. "What? It worked, right?"

"Definitely," mutters Hermione, "Did he actually get upset? Because the way it's written here,  _enough rubbish talk,_  seems to indicate Fudge losing his composure."

"Yeah, he was getting pretty pissed off over time. Umbridge too, though she stayed that usual maddening 'sweet', ugh."

As he continues to read through the transcript, Harry sees Hermione smiling at the vague reference to her hand.

"Hmm, looks like Percy didn't pick up on Dumbledore whispering to me. The Headmaster said I shouldn't bring you into this," says Harry.

"If this whole thing wasn't so rushed, I'd have gladly came to your defence by showing them my hand."

The rest of the transcript remains fresh in Harry's memory from yesterday's trial, and he merely skims over it. His gaze soon falling upon the continuation of the article following Fudge's verdict:

_Cleared of all involvement in the Azkaban breakout, Potter then had the audacity to stare down the Minister (as depicted in the above picture). A fifteen year old expelled boy, who's failed to reach O.W.L. level, turned his back on those attempting to converse with him. Does Albus Dumbledore's protégé think so highly of himself? He certainly does._

"Well," says Harry, "At least I've made front page news."

Hermione wraps her arms around him as Harry sees the next article. "You're all over the paper today, Harry, far more than usual. Did you honestly go and do this?"

"Yeah, but let's read their version of events..."

**_ARROGANCE UNBOUND: HARRY POTTER IN THE AUROR DEPARTMENT_ **

_If disrespecting the Minister of Magic wasn't enough, Harry Potter then strode into the Aurors' Headquarters._

_"I believe the boy is in dire need of a mental evaluation," said Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge yesterday. "Fortunately, our Aurors are well prepared to handle all manner of delinquents, including those of questionable mental state. Mr. Potter fails to realise how fortunate he is to emerge unscathed following such a blatant barrage of verbal attacks."_

_It is also worth noting that Albus Dumbledore made no effort to curb Mr. Potter's accusations towards the Aurors. The boy continuously belittled the prestigious department for failing to acknowledge his lies and conspiracy theories. When asked for comment on the matter, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour responded:_

_"We are trained to handle provocation, especially when I tried to explain to Mr. Potter that we were understandably cautious on having him walk through our department. Mr. Potter then responded, and I quote, 'Understandably ignorant as well. All the N.E.W.T.s achieved between you and your colleagues, and yet nobody can understand that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back.'"_

Harry pauses to look up at Hermione. "What a complete git, he quotes me and yet refuses to say 'Voldemort' like I did. Oh, sorry, I'll carry on reading..."

_Aurors are, of course, trained from students who've achieved exemplary results at school. Mr. Potter may wish to reconsider his actions in the future before he endangers himself even further._

_"We were also threatened, you see," said Auror Williamson, "Potter went around telling us how, 'when You-Know-Who is proven to be back', he will remember who took his warnings as a joke."_

_Just how low will Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore sink with their false claims? Nevertheless, Minister Fudge is well prepared to handle these assaults on his authority and power._

"Harry, this isn't a laughing matter!" says Hermione, looking down to see him sniggering to himself. "I can't believe you actually went right up to the  _Aurors_  and said all that."

"They conveniently omitted the part where Williamson wanted to duel me, regardless of underage magic outside of Hogwarts."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they're not as infallible as they'd like people to believe," Harry scoffs while sitting up between Hermione's legs.

"Well, there's more about you in today's paper."

Harry gawks at her. "Are you for real? Might as well have called this one the  _Daily Potter_  instead. Lemme see..." He eyes the smirking photograph (cropped to his head) taken of him upon his arrival at the Ministry. "Wow, they're quite creative in talking crap, I must say..."

**_THE NEXT GELLERT GRINDELWALD?_ **

"Wasn't that the previous main Dark wizard before Voldemort?" asks Harry, before Hermione nods.

"Yep, it's amazing how people actually get paid to write this rubbish. How can they compare you to such an evil, manipulative person?"

After skipping the aforementioned article, Harry reads over one detailing the tragic demise of Boderick Bode. "Devil's Snare!" he nearly shouts. "Hermione, I think this is what I've overheard them talking about last year. So, Voldemort planned on releasing his imprisoned followers and assassinating Bode? But what's Bode got to do with anything?"

She gasps while covering her mouth. "I remember Bode! Ron said his dad told him Bode was an Unspeakable in the Ministry. They work in the Department of Mysteries... and therefore can't divulge the nature of their jobs. Bode had a rather big pot plant delivered to him on Christmas day! The day you wanted to attack Lockhart, remember? You spent some time with Fleur while we followed Lockhart into his ward. Boderick Bode was in there."

Harry nods in understanding as he makes sense of what he's seen and heard. "Of course! Voldemort must've had someone Imperius Bode into trying to access that plain black door leading to the Department of Mysteries..."

"What plain black door?" asks Hermione.

"The windowless corridor I keep dreaming about... the one where I got a brief glimpse of Mr. Weasley being attacked? That was Level Nine of the Ministry of Magic, the corridor that leads into the Department of Mysteries."

Hermione nearly jumps up in her seat, her expression fairly shocked and yet intrigued. "How do you know that?"

"Well, the pieces are steadily adding up now. Courtroom ten, where my trial was held, hasn't been used in ages. So, why was I suddenly taken down there yesterday?"

"Probably because they haven't put someone on trial, with such serious charges as you, in a long time?" asks Hermione.

"Makes sense, but how about this: What if some of Voldemort's supporters influenced Fudge to set the trial down there? Lucius Malfoy himself was at Level Nine yesterday morning. He claimed to be awaiting the Minister but the moment he saw Dumbledore he fled to call Fudge."

"Surely courtroom ten can't be within the Department of Mysteries?" asks Hermione. "That makes no sense."

"What?" Harry laughs before continuing. "No! The Ministry lifts only go until Level Nine, and courtroom ten is one floor below. But to access it, you have walk into the windowless corridor to descend a flight of steps on your left... see where I'm going with this?"

"Lucius Malfoy wanted you to see the windowless corridor, right? Perhaps he sought to check your reaction to report to Voldemort? Don't tell me he was expecting you to only show up later with little protection?" asks Hermione.

"Now this is the part that doesn't make sense," Harry sighs while pausing for thought. But with no clear answers, he continues. "Sturgis Podmore was arrested during my time in Azkaban for trying to 'steal Ministry secrets'. He's locked up tightly still. Then, Boderick Bode supposedly has a go at breaking in but failed to steal whatever Voldemort wants. Naturally, he'd want Bode, a witness now that he was off the Imperius Curse, silenced."

"Bode looked totally out of it though," says Hermione. "I mean, the job title  _Unspeakable_  isn't to be taken that literally. But at St. Mungo's, Bode really struggled to say anything. The Healers mentioned him 'regaining' the ability to speak, although at that point he was incomprehensible."

"What's that old expression I heard on the telly? Close but no cigar? Well, this whole thing feels like we're getting close to solving it. You and I, Muggle wuggle, we'll put our brains together and make sense of this all, yep." Harry leans forward on the couch, his expression now conveying much deep thought.

"I find it highly suspicious that everything just happens to start making sense now. Ever since Lucius Malfoy probably influenced the trial venue, you've put a lot together." Hermione's eyes widen a slight bit as she leans closer to Harry. "What if this is all leading to a trap? I honestly don't think Malfoy was there to Imperius you past that door, Harry. He was there to check your reaction, as you've suggested."

"The biggest question of them all is: why me? What's in the Department of Mysteries that Bode nearly had that totally wrecked him? A monster? A weapon of sorts? Does Voldemort want me to risk getting in and getting wrecked too? That'll be working in his favour."

"And why is he so desperate to obtain whatever it is that's hidden down there? Didn't you say Voldemort is one arrogant person, Harry?"

He nods while grinning. "Yeah, he sure is. So much that he refuses to let anyone else kill me... it  _has_  to be him. Which is why I doubt Voldemort wants me to get in to get hurt. Tom doesn't think that way..."

"So, ruling out Voldemort's hopes of you ending up like Bode, we can assume there's something that he wants you to retrieve. But why does it have to be you? He's tried and failed thrice already, right?"

"Yeah, Podmore, Nagini, and Bode were all previous means to get inside that irritating plain black door. Argh, this is driving me CRAZY! Time for a phone call."

"What? Muggle technology doesn't work in Hogwarts, or haven't you read  _Hogwarts, A History_?"

Harry leaps up from his seat while smiling. "Uh-uh-uh, my pretty Granger, this is like a wizarding cell phone, yeah. Be right back, babe."

He rushes off to retrieve the two-way mirror from his room, which startles Hermione.

"Good grief! Are you such a narcissist, Harry James Potter?"

"Very funny, bushy mushy, but this is a two-way mirror. Check it out...Hello? Padfoot?"

"You called, young snake?" asks Sirius, whose appearance in the mirror elicits a gasp from Hermione. "Don't tell me they've already discovered you in the school? Or would you like to discuss this morning's enormous level of  _Daily Propaganda_?"

Not wasting any time, Harry immediately hounds Sirius with questions regarding the Department of Mysteries.

"I knew this was coming," sighs Sirius. "For your own safety, Harry, I can't tell you anything. Besides, Dumbledore hasn't disclosed everything to everyone in the Order, only a select few of us truly know what's happening."

"But you know, right? Come on!" Harry groans before getting an idea. "What's life without a little risk, eh?"

"Nice try, Harry, and you're right: a little risk is fun. But this isn't a little risk we're talking about." Sirius' expression becomes as stern as Harry's yet seen. "Considering what Fudge thinks of you, and the fact that I nearly lost you to Azkaban... no, I can't have you rushing off on a 'heroic' mission."

"But wouldn't my father have done something like that?"

Hermione gasps at Harry's statement, though Sirius smiles.

"Once again, nice try. Yes, I'm sure James would've taken the risk of heading out but then again, James never went to Azkaban. He's never been constantly slandered by the most read newspaper in our wizarding community. Your dad was brave, bold, and occasionally reckless... but he had his limits. Harry, please understand that I absolutely cannot risk you getting caught breaking into the Department of Mysteries."

"I won't get caught."

"Oh sure, Sturgis Podmore probably thought the same thing... Voldemort's snake probably thought the same thing too."

Harry grits his teeth while responding. "That was different, she would've been caught had I not accidentally slipped into Voldemort's mind..."

Sirius sighs while gazing intently at him. "Can you imagine what'll happen if you _are_ caught sneaking past that door? All of our efforts in debating on your behalf will be rendered null and void. They'll have 'proof' that you're a criminal trying to usurp Ministry power via their secrets. Dumbledore and the rest of us currently have things under control. You, however, need to focus on getting up to scratch with your schoolwork."

"He's telling the truth, Harry," says Hermione, "Perhaps you ought to shift your priorities for this year, please! I'd like you to be in my grade next year... N.E.W.T. level."

"But, Sirius—"

"Harry, please don't make me regret giving you that mirror. I love you as my godson, but if you're going to constantly inquire about Level Nine... I'd hate to have to ignore your calls."

"None of us wish to lose you again, Harry," says Hermione. "You're one wrong move away from being locked up, don't you understand?"

"Thank you, Hermione," says Sirius, "I need you to take care of my godson as if your life depended on it. Although"—He slightly laughs—"I'm sure your futures  _would_  depend on it, yeah. Stay out of jail, Harry, because a life sentence means no getting it on with your girlfriend over there."

"Sirius!" Hermione's cheeks turn a deep shade of red as Harry starts laughing. "Oh, whatever! He's got it bad for a few others anyway. I know him well enough already."

"Would you like to discuss anything else?" asks Sirius. "Anything not pertaining to our earlier topic? How's the rest of the school reacting to Fudge's propaganda?"

"It's certainly become the talk of town, so to speak," says Hermione. "Those against Harry are emphasizing the quotes on his mental state. Malfoy and Nott, specifically, are calling Harry a 'complete nutter.'"

"Don't let it get to you, Harry," says Sirius, "Remember that you're not supposed to even be in school."

"Oh, don't worry," Harry smiles while walking about the room. "I'll get them back in a very different way. They think they're all hard because of their full Firebolt team?"

Sirius smiles while looking through the mirror held in Harry's hand. "Speaking of which, I did some checking and guess what? Quality Quidditch Supplies has one-week loans on a select number of Firebolts. Of course, since they're at 500 Galleons each, nobody bothers for that option."

"Couple that with a 10% delivery fee and it'll be around...um... 3300 Galleons for six brooms!" Harry beams with a grin that has Hermione in fits of laughter.

"Oh my goodness, you're such a little child! Look at that smile."

"Wanna dance?" asks Harry. "Got that from Daphne back in the day, she's almost never angry." He ends the call with Sirius before grabbing Hermione by the hands. "Let's dance, girl."

"Okay then, boy."

For the last fifteen minutes of lunch hour, they dance in each other's arms before Hermione heads off to her next class. Over an hour later, she returns with an astonished Ron at her side.

"Did you really do all that stuff at the Ministry?" he asks, to which Harry nods.

"Yep, most of what they say, besides the overly stupid stuff, is true. Dumbledore and I made Fudge look like an idiot, then I told the Aurors what's what. Oh, we also visited your dad and had lunch, was nice."

"You're mental, mate," Ron laughs as they do their usual swapping routine. "Jokes aside, Hagrid's not looking too good these days. And I'm not talking about his injuries."

Before Harry can ask, Hermione explains that Hagrid's on probation by Umbridge. The latter now supervising all Care of Magical Creatures as well as Divination classes.

"Well," says Hermione, "I can't comment on Divination... but from what I've seen at Hagrid's, she's getting worse and worse these days. Not to mention that your trial hadn't gone her way."

With everything set, Harry exits the Room of Requirement as Ron Weasley en route to Care of Magical Creatures. It may be a chilly, cloudy afternoon, but he's determined to witness Hagrid's plight in person.

"Act like a Prefect please," says Hermione, walking beside Harry as they eventually exit the castle. A cold wind cutting through their robes as the pair walk across the entrance courtyard amidst dozens of students.

"Being indoors for so long really makes one appreciate the snow," whispers Harry, trudging down the slopes beside a grinning Hermione.

"Please refrain from leaping on your back and making snow angels. Ron isn't as childish as you can be," she whispers in return.

"You're my snow angel."

"And stop that too, even if it's quite sweet, thank you. Bit weird to hear it from Ron though."

As they near Hagrid's cabin, Harry and Hermione spot the rest of their class already present. No sooner do the two Prefects near their classmates than Malfoy jeers at them with his boys.

"Aren't Prefects supposed to set an example by being early? Work too much for you, Granger? Thinking like a normal person too much for you, Weasel King?"

Given his rather confident walk, and close proximity to Hermione, the Slytherin girls now appear suspicious of Harry's presence. The boys, though, remain as clueless as the rest of the Gryffindors gathered around.

"Oh look, people, it's the certified prat Malfoy," says Harry, "and let's not forget Nott the amazing ferret."

"Shut up, Weasley," mutters Nott.

The Gryffindors point and laugh at a red-faced pair of Slytherin boys while Harry folds his arms. "Well, where's that Slytherin cunning, eh, you two? Bring it."

"Oh, I see what's going on here," says Zabini. "Weasley's trying to act tough like his pal Potter at the Ministry.  _Stupid_  is more like it. Who the hell thinks they're tougher than the Wizengamot and the Auror department?"

Malfoy and the boys cackle at the remark. Harry, meanwhile, laughs as well (though quite sarcastically).

"Look how dumb Weasley is!" says Nott, "He doesn't even know our joke is against his idiot prisoner pal."

"If only he could afford brains," says Zabini, causing Harry to smile.

"That's very funny," laughs Harry, "calling me poor." He now turns to face the Gryffindors (who usually sport comical expressions whenever 'Ron' acts as confident as today). "Oi, folks, I'm poor!"

"What?" Lavender gasps while looking almost puppy-eyed at Harry. "Don't say it like that, Ron, you're good enough for all of us."

"At least he acknowledges it," scoffs Malfoy. "Not like it's going to change anytime soon."

"I'm poor, yeah," says Harry, "but at least my dad doesn't actually look like a homeless man... unlike Nott's."

If not for Umbridge walking down the slopes right now, Harry reckons there'd certainly be a duel between Malfoy and Ron's group. The latter now sniggering until the High Inquisitor arrives to inspect today's class.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they greet, as expected.

"Good afternoon, where is Professor Hagrid?" She now scribbles on her clipboard before Hagrid comes rushing out of his house.

"Sorry, good afternoon, everythin' alright?"

"You are late, Professor Hagrid," says Umbridge, while Malfoy's group sniggers.

"Why aren't you girls laughing?" whispers Nott to Pansy's group. "Look at the stupid giant-oaf cracking under pressure."

"The bullying teachers joke already lost its appeal," whispers Pansy, "I guess it was funny the first 10 times we saw it."

While Umbridge and the rest of the class move forward to view today's beast, a Crup, Harry silently approaches Daphne at the back.

"Ever thought you'd have Ronald Weasley whispering in your ear, Daffy?" he asks, while gently stroking her long blonde hair as they stand behind the group. As expected, she just about contains her gasp before turning to look wide-eyed at Harry.

"Is it... you?"

"It is me, don't act like you didn't suspect it. I'm always around, well, sometimes. Hasn't Cho told Pansy? Now don't blow my cover by hugging me or anything, okay?"

They keep their voices to a whisper as an awestruck Daphne furiously questions Harry on his recent actions... not to mention his face.

"Yeah, I know I look evil these days," he whispers. "I suppose you all saw me in the papers."

"For God's sake, things just aren't the same without you!" whispers Daphne, battling to control the tears in her eyes. Drac—ahem,  _Malfoy_  and Nott think they own the bloody dungeons now. And they mock you so much in the common room, especially your dancing and Quidditch parties. We're one bad day away from hexing the hell out of them."

"Whoa, calm down!"

"When are you coming back? Why can't you return? We want our main man back where he belongs, not skulking around hiding in plain sight," whispers Daphne, eyeing Harry up and down. " _Weasley_  of all people..."

"Cornelius Fudge is under the impression that Dumbledore and I are planning to overthrow him."

"Well, maybe you should!" whispers Daphne. "Pansy told us what her mum saw in the graveyard, so we obviously believe everything you say. But the boys are absolutely terrible, insufferable. I wish you could put them in their place so badly. And what about your schoolwork? Where are you hiding in the castle—"

"Don't worry," whispers Harry, "There's a reason I'm sticking to Gryffindor this year. I've got things sorted... even against Malfoy and Nott's fancy Firebolt side."

Once the group starts moving about, Harry swiftly returns to Hermione and the Gryffindors to avoid being seen chatting with Daphne Greengrass.

"Now, some of yeh might know tha' the Ministry doesn' want—"

Hagrid's discussion involving the Crup dog's double tail is interrupted by Umbridge.

"Excuse me, Professor Hagrid? Could you perhaps repeat that last sentence again? I didn't quite catch it."

Fidgeting quite nervously, Hagrid clears his throat before picking up the beast much resembling a Jack Russell terrier, except for its twin tails.

"As I was sayin', the Ministry wants Crup owners to cut their tails while they're still young. Don' want unnecessary Muggle sightings out there." He glances towards the scribbling Umbridge standing beside a sniggering group of Slytherin boys.

"You said the 'Ministry wants Crup owners to cut their tails while they're still young.' Such ambiguity could prove disastrous in an O.W.L. exam and/or real life, Professor."

"Well, I didn' mean—"

"Are you referring to the Ministry wanting people to cut off Ministry workers' tails, Professor? None of us working in the Ministry have any tails, as far as I'm aware." Umbridge remains smiling as she gestures to her backside, miming while speaking. "Or should Crup owners cut their own tails off? Interesting..."

"No, sorry, I meant tha' Crup owners must cut one tail off the baby Crup... the Cruppie, yes," says a red-faced Hagrid who's clearly embarrassed.

"And did you mean 'unnecessary' Muggle sightings or 'any' Muggle sightings? The Statute of Secrecy forbids us from revealing  _anything_  to Muggles, Professor. Kindly take a moment to rethink your statements before releasing them in an academic environment."

Hagrid swiftly nods while looking down, his battered confidence slightly improved by the Crup licking his cheek.

"It would be preferable for that beast to be on a leash, Professor. Regardless of their inherent affinity with magical folk, safety takes priority." Umbridge smiles while miming a person walking a dog. "Safety first. Repeat after me, class: safety first."

"Safety first," declares the group (mostly Malfoy's lot).

Hermione leans to whisper in Harry's ear. "She's enjoying this because she's a cat person. You should see her horrendous office!"

"Aren't you a cat person too?" Harry glances quizzically at the fuming girl.

"Yes, but I'm not in the same league as  _her_. That loathsome toad of a woman!"

Wrapping his arm around Hermione's shoulder, Harry whispers. "If this is how she attacks Hagrid, I shudder at the thought of supervised Divination. Oh, but you'd probably be happy to see some Ministry order being imposed on Trelawney, right?"

"Not this kind of order," Hermione sighs. "This is outright bullying and offers little value to a simple lesson on a Crup.  _A Crup_! Ambiguity my arse! You can't blame Hagrid for not having the best of language skills, and we aren't so dumb as to not understand what he means."

"Mr. Weasley," says Umbridge, causing everyone to look at Harry. "Kindly remove your arm from Miss Granger, and distance yourself during an academic session."

Placing his hands in his pocket, Harry stands with his head slightly upturned. His glare matching the intensity of Umbridge's false smile.

"Mr. Weasley..."

Hermione nudges him in the side before whispering. "Don't let her give you detention,  _please_."

"Five points from Gryffindor—"

"Oh come on!" says Lavender, standing a fair distance to Harry's left. "They're Prefects, ma'am. A little bit of friendliness isn't going to affect their academic performance!"

Parvati, Fay, and Eloise soon nod in agreement. "Yeah, what she said!"

"Three points each from Gryffindor for refusing to obey instructions," says Umbridge. "So that's 14 points lost in one conversation... if only you'd learn to listen. Now then, shall we add detention or will you comply?"

"Alright, fine!" Harry looks around before shaking his head. "Have it your way then, Professor." He steps away from Hermione while gesturing for the girls to back down.

"Hahaha," Malfoy looks to his group. "Gryffindors are more chickens than lions these days. Thank you, Madam Umbridge."

Following the end of today's lesson, Malfoy leads his boys up the slopes while the girls and Gryffindors walk behind.

"What's the deal, Ron?" asks Dean, "Why'd you crumble before Umbridge like that?"

"Hermione said her detentions are different, brutal. I didn't wanna let any of you go through that." Harry looks ahead and knows full well that their conversation is being overheard by the Slytherins.

"She lets you write with this black quill that uses your blood as ink," says Hermione (causing the Slytherins to pay closer attention). "Cuts right into the back of your hand, just like I told Harry."

"Yeah," says Harry, "and he said he wanted to bring that up at the Wizengamot trial. But Dumbledore told him not to, since it'd be best to keep Hermione out of things."

"How do you guys manage to chat so much with Harry Potter?" asks Roger Malone, "Considering that Umbridge seems to be checking all our mail?"

Now the Slytherins nearly stop while climbing the snowy slopes beneath darkened skies. At least one person each from Slytherin and Gryffindor light up their wands to traverse the cloudy evening.

"Don't worry about that," says Harry, "Too many unwanted ears lurking around."

"Got something to hide, Weasley?" asks Nott. "Sounds like the High Inquisitor ought to hear about your scheming."

"Go play with your Firebolts, shove them up your arses or something. Though, judging by how uptight you boys are, it wouldn't penetrate even at full speed."

"Pfft, Weasel, think you're very fun—"

"Anyway," Harry raises his voice over Nott's, "Harry told me that Lucius Malfoy tried to intimidate him before his trial. Well, it's too bad Mr. Malfoy ran off almost pissing his pants at the sight of our Headmaster standing beside the Boy-Who-Lived."

Much Gryffindor laughter echoes across the slopes before Harry draws his wand at an oncoming jet of yellow.

" _Protego_!" He looks ahead to see the silhouette of Draco Malfoy standing near the Slytherins. "I'll say it on your behalf then, hahaha..." Harry now puts on an exaggerated, squeamish voice. " _Don't you dare talk about my father like that_ ,  _you poor Weasel scum_! Am I right, pampered git?"

"Nobody talks about my father like that. Especially not someone as filthy and lowly as you, Weasel swine!"

"Yep," laughs Harry, "Close enough. Now piss off, prat."

"Kick his arse, Won Won!" cheers Lavender, while Hermione sighs.

"So much for being a Prefect..." she then looks around and laughs. "Yes, take him down, Ron!"

Harry reckons that Malfoy would've perhaps beaten a pre D.A.-trained Ron at duelling. But things are far different this time as he takes aim.

 _"Stupefy!"_ Malfoy's stunner is dodged before Harry counters:

 _"Tarantallegra_! Dance in the snow, loser."

While the Slytherin boys move in to assist Malfoy, Harry's reinforced by his Gryffindor classmates.

"What the?" Nott looks around at Pansy's group. "Help us out here!"

Though the evening be dark, Harry spots Daphne whispering to a most surprised Pansy before the latter draws her wand. "Okay," Pansy rushes to assist Nott. "I suppose we can't let Weasel King talk his trash everywhere.  _Furnunculus_!"

 _"Protego_!" Harry deflects Pansy's spell towards Crabbe. " _Expelliarmus_!"

" _Flipendo_ " Pansy's jinx collides with Harry's disarming charm in midair while their classmates duel nearby.

"Think you're hard, Parkinson?" asks Harry, eyeing the mischievous smile on Pansy's face.

"Hard indeed, Weasel, hehehe...  _Depulso_!"

" _Locomotor Wibbly_!"

Harry and Pansy continue to exchange spells as they soon fire, dodge, or block each other's attacks.

"Parkinson, you bitch!" shouts Lavender. "Don't you dare attack my Ron,  _Impedimenta_!"

"Your Ro— Oh, just like I thought," says Pansy, "Hahaha, Brown's going down! Down to the ground where she can't make a sound.  _Protego_!"

While Harry turns right to retaliate against Malfoy's attacks, he spots Pansy leaping to the ground while fidgeting with something. "The hell?"

"Eyes here, poverty boy," Malfoy fires a full body-bind curse which Harry deflects and counters with a disarming charm.

"In your face, certified prat!"

With his wand caught by Harry, Malfoy hurls vile remarks before Goyle is taken down by Dean. Meanwhile, Roger Malone and Seamus Finnigan appear to have outright avoided the skirmish, which comes as little surprise to Harry. Elsewhere, Neville is narrowly disarmed by a smug Zabini before Parvati blasts snow in the Slytherin's face. This is followed by disarming him before retrieving Neville's wand, and returning Zabini's.

"You alright?" she asks, while returning Neville's wand.

"Yeah, almost had him."

"Don't sweat it," says Parvati, "You did fine. For all his rude gloating, Zabini struggled to disarm you."

"Damnit, where are the other girls?" asks Nott, while Daphne leads Tracey, Sally-Anne, and Millicent away from the action.

"Sorry," says Millicent, "But Umbridge wouldn't want us to resort to violence."

"Yeah," adds Tracey, "and don't forget that I'm a 'stupid Half-Blood', Nott."

"Wait!" Nott beckons them over as their silhouettes can be seen against the evening sky. "That was for Potter, not you two."

"What's the difference?" asks Harry, "Bulstrode's a Half-Blood, Harry's a Half-Blood, Davis is a Half-Blood, et cetera. _Everte Statum_!"

"Perks!" calls Nott. "Don't let Weasley's Gryffindork group have their way! He insulted the prestigious Malfoy family! Stand up for us Purebloods like Parkinson's doing right now."

"I've got Arithmancy to study," says Sally-Anne, making her way up the slopes. "You ought to be revising our latest algorithms too. Hell, I can't believe Granger's getting stuck in too. Look at the Muggleborn duel, hahahaha!"

Harry moves to whisper in a scowling Hermione's ear as flashes of spells light up their surroundings. "She's just teasing you, by the way. My girls long since gave up their genuine dislike of you."

"I knew that," Hermione scoffs while effortlessly disarming Crabbe nearby. "I take it Parkinson knows it's you?"

"Yeah, Daphne told her just now." Harry smiles upon seeing Pansy duelling Lavender to the left. "Perfect opportunity to make it seem like she's fit for Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad."

"Man, you guys know how to duel!" says Fay, who joins in with Eloise at her side. "Been revising last year's work? Mad-Eye sure was better than Umbitch."

"What did you call her?" asks Nott. "Show some respect, Dunbar."

Meanwhile, Pansy blocks Lavender's knockback jinx before giggling. "Surprise!  _Accio Snowball_!  _Depulso_!"

"What?" Lavender yelps upon being hit in the face. "Argh, the nerve of you!"

"Just give up," says Harry, seeing as it's basically himself, Hermione, Fay, Eloise, Parvati, Lavender, Dean, and Neville against Pansy, Nott, and Zabini. "Eight against three."

"Fine, let's have a tactical retreat," says Malfoy, before the Gryffindors return their opponents' wands. While fleeing up the slopes, Malfoy can be heard muttering "...they were good, too good... something's not quite right here."

Although the Gryffindors cheer in triumph, Hermione shushes them before whispering. "That wasn't a wise move, Ron," she shakes her head at Harry. "Actually, we all made the horrendous mistake of showing off our skills. Now they might be getting on to us..."

"On to what?" asks Fay. "What's there to hide? We kicked their snobby arses."

"I think we can let Eloise and Fay in, Hermione, they seem up for it," says Harry, as the Gryffindors troop up the slopes towards the castle. "Don't bother asking because we won't tell you out here. Hermione, take the parchment to your dormitory and have these two sign if they'd like to join. Otherwise, don't explain until they've put their names down."

"I'm so confused," admits Eloise, "What are you talking about?"

"Sign first, questions later," says Hermione. "You're either promising to commit or not."

Following dinner, Harry remains in the Room of Requirement while everyone else heads their separate ways. Unbeknownst to the D.A. members, Draco Malfoy leads a group (comprising Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy) to the second floor corridor, en route to Umbridge's office.

"Shouldn't we be voicing our concerns to Professor Snape?" asks Pansy, "He is our Head of House anyway."

Zabini snorts a slight laugh. "Snape may hate the Gryffindors like we do, but Umbridge has the real power around here. And Dumbles is too shut in his office to do anything really."

"I can't believe your girls, Parkinson," says Nott. "You should talk some sense into them, make them realise what's right."

"I've tried, but they're too focused on their work to divert their attention."

"Work may be important," says Malfoy, "but so is seizing any opportunity that comes your way. Like now, we're gonna get in good with Umbridge. That's the Slytherin way."

The group of six soon enter the Defence Against the Dark Arts office where Umbridge greets them with a smile.

"Is there anything you'd like to discuss? We can bypass Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six if it's a topic of great importance," says Umbridge, seated behind her desk as Malfoy speaks up.

"We were attacked by most of the fifth-year Gryffindors after Hagrid's class today, ma'am."

"Perhaps a nice round of detentions are in order then, bring them here, Mr. Malfoy."

"But something seemed amiss, Professor," says Nott. "We tried to defend ourselves but that group was well-coordinated, too well, in fact. It's as if they've been practicing their combat skills."

The look on Umbridge's face, as she lowers her teacup, speaks volumes now. "That is a very serious accusation, Mr. Nott. Our textbooks and curriculum recommend against such unwanted behaviour."

Zabini steps forward to back his roommates up. "They attacked almost in unison, like a unit of sorts..."

Umbridge stands up from her seat, her smile fading a tad. "If there is even the  _slightest_  hint of a rebellion being formed, the Ministry has every right to be informed. You've read the newspaper, correct? Then surely you'd see the dangers we, including the Minister, find ourselves in."

Malfoy nods in agreement. "Father always said Dumbledore couldn't be trusted, especially after that petrification scandal."

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy, ten points to Slytherin for such keen observation," Umbridge eyes the group gathered before her. "As of this moment, I am unofficially founding our Inquisitorial Squad. Once we find a way to restore order by outing Dumbledore, then you will have power beyond even the Head students. For now, keep this between ourselves and, more importantly, observe the most problematic students."

"Weasley is certainly acting highly suspicious these days," says Zabini. "There's something that's definitely riled that dimwit up, and I reckon it's due to becoming Prefect."

"Yeah," agrees Malfoy, "let's keep a close eye on him. We all in?"

The group voice their approval while Umbridge smiles again. "Are there any of your fellow Slytherins you wish to nominate for our squad?"

Before Pansy can speak, Nott interrupts. "Hmm... I reckon we can't really trust your roommates, Parkinson. No offense, but they seem pro-Potter to me. At least you came to our defence against Mr. ' _I am now suddenly best friends with Potter_ ' Weasley. So, no Perks nor Greengrass nor Bulstrode nor Davis."

"What about the Head Girl?" asks Zabini. "Shafiq's no pushover."

"Considering my earlier thoughts..." Nott brings his fingers to his chin while in thought. "She's actually got a soft spot for Scarhead. I know he's living like an ignorant Muggle these days, but anyone sympathetic to him can't be trusted. Not within our squad. So, that means Warrington's also out."

"But Warrington offers more muscle and skill," says Malfoy.

"No, Warrington is part of the old group. He's too pro-Potter like Shafiq, Pucey, and quite a few more older students."

"We can't rely too much on seventh years, no matter how skilled they are," says Pansy, inwardly hoping to sabotage the strength of this wretched squad.

"I fail to understand how that makes sense," admits Zabini, while Umbridge requests that Pansy explain herself.

"Montague seems the only one willing to devote his N.E.W.T. time to our cause," Pansy folds her arms while sitting down. "The others may not like Potter, but they're clearly caught up in their heavy last term of school. The last thing we need is to be counterproductive with our squad."

"Ah, I can see how that makes sense, Miss Parkinson," says Umbridge. "You may invite Montague to our squad but leave the rest be. I do not want half-hearted members working to impose order."

"Stay away from the third and fourth-years too, most of them support Potter," says Pansy. "In fact, most of Slytherin are still in favour of him."

"Manipulative bastard!" Nott groans while balling his fist. "He's not even here but people still admire him."

"Exactly, Mr. Nott," Umbridge smiles even wider, causing Pansy's stomach to turn. "And now you understand the reasons behind that article comparing Potter to Dark wizards such as Grindelwald. They prey on others' admirations."

The group of Slytherins soon exit the office while planning their unofficial squad. Pansy, meanwhile, inquires about Malfoy's Prefect duties.

"I'm off tonight but doing the first and second floor tomorrow, and you?" he asks.

"Basically the opposite," says a smiling Pansy, "So, I guess you boys should be off to the dungeons now."

As the clock nears half past six, Pansy heads up to the fourth floor while grinning wickedly. Her footsteps softly patter along the corridor as she walks right up to grab someone's backside.

"What the— Parkinson!?"

"Good evening, snuggle Muggle wuggle."

Hermione grips her wand tightly while narrowing her eyes. "What do you want at this hour? Um..."

"Relax your lovely arse, Granger," Pansy leans to whisper in Hermione's ear. "Malfoy suspects that something is up with your lot. We just came back from a meeting with Umbridge, now the Inquisitorial Squad has unofficially been formed. We're also in the process of scouting members, though most of seventh year is off, except Graham Montague. Oh, and tell Harry not to act up too much as Ronald Weasley, since the Squad is eyeing him now."

"Thanks for the heads-up, much appreciated. That is, if you can be trusted."

Pansy grins before kissing a startled Hermione on the lips. "Be sure to give that to Harry when you see him. From how he looks in the papers... my poor baby Potter really needs it. Well, cheers, danger Granger. You'd better be extra vigilant from here on out with... whatever you folks are doing."

Following this, Hermione continues with her patrol before heading to the Room of Requirement to alert Harry.

 


	19. Studies and Preparations

Heeding Pansy's warning, Harry lays low for the next few days, leaving Ron to be himself while under covert scrutiny by the Inquisitorial Squad. This also allows Harry more time to practice his basic Occlumency in the silence of the Room of Requirement. While the rest of the school are out and about, he battles to think about absolutely nothing.

Though there be slight improvements with regards to Harry's Occlumency, his regular academic studying lags behind once more. Unfortunately, Hermione again finds it increasingly difficult to both maintain her own academic performance and assist Harry.

"Even you can't do both," says Harry, on Monday (the 20th of January) night. "I absolutely hate being a burden on you."

"How many times do I have to repeat that I couldn't bear to watch you fail?" Hermione pauses her revision to adjust her D.A. Galleon. "Next meeting's tomorrow evening. My heart could never handle seeing you running about with the fifth-years next year."

"It might just come to that, if the Ministry wins their next debate," says Harry, now laying against Hermione as they read through her History of Magic textbook. "Since you read a bit faster than me, how about doing it out loud? Would be lovely to hear... just don't drawl on like Binns."

"If you fall asleep then I'm just carrying on. No mercy."

Harry smiles while resting his head back against Hermione's abdomen as she reads through the coursework. "I love laying between your legs."

"I'm not even going to comment on that," Hermione shakes her head while continuing to study well past midnight.

The following evening brings the first D.A. meeting of 1996, and Luna arrives first in the room.

"Hello, Harry, my dad was very pleased at last Wednesday's article. We enlarged the picture and proudly hung it up in my room."

If there's one girl that even Harry's unsure around, it's Luna Lovegood. She's either oblivious to his charms or simply uncaring. However, the thought of a girl staring at him all day in her room makes him nervously grin. "Uh, okay, was that the Wizengamot one?"

"Yes, my father is very supportive of any anti-Ministry action, and that picture visualised such action pretty clearly. Plus, it makes for a good decoration against the wall... like a mural of sorts."

They continue to discuss Harry's arguments against Fudge as the room gradually fills up with D.A. members. Instead of answering individually to the barrage of questions fired his way, Harry waits until the room is packed. To his (pleasant) surprise, though, three new members are welcomed into the group.

"Whoa! What the hell?"

"Is that really  _him_? Here? In school? After coming out of... Azkaban?"

"Me mum said he was a nutter but I guess I no longer believe the  _Daily Prophet._ "

Seamus Finnigan, Fay Dunbar, and Eloise Midgen soon join the crowd listening to Harry's account of last week's events. But the longer he speaks against the Ministry, the more Harry spots what is clearly apprehension on Marietta Edgecombe's face.

"Anyway," he says, after answering over a dozen enthusiastic questions, "tonight we're focusing on doing the Shield Charm. Anyone know the incantation as well as wand movement?"

Hermione's hand shoots up first, and Harry resists the urge to grin while speaking.

"No one? How disappointing."

"Oh ha-ha," Hermione tilts her head indignantly while lowering her hand. "Just like Professor Snape, hmph! Fine, someone else can answer your question then. And to think I let you lay on me all the time..."

More hands shoot into the air, causing Harry to select at random. "Padma, do tell us."

" _Protego_! And you kinda swipe your wand straight up to summon the shield, yep."

"Excellent! Three points to Ravenclaw—"

Hermione rolls her eyes while sighing. "You're not authorized to do that, silly. Haven't you read—"

" _Hogwarts, A History,_ " says Parvati, "Just thought I'd finish the sentence for you. One which we've heard a bazillion times."

Grinning at the remark, Harry splits the group to stand along the walls, which frees up space in the room. "Hermione will kindly demonstrate the shield charm against one of my attacks. Don't worry, you'll still have your friendly neighbourhood bookworm when I'm done with her."

He now takes up position on one end while (a rather focused) Hermione stands at the other. Raising their wands, Harry strikes first.

_"Everte Statum!"_

_"Protego!"_

It comes as little surprise to Harry as the jet of orange is deflected back at him. Although there's a few split seconds to react, he lets himself be hit and thrown through the air against a wall. Hermione, meanwhile, beams with a smile as many girls congratulate her.

"That's what you get for mocking me, Harry," she says before looking at the surrounding students. "He blocked dragon fire last year but so what? I knocked him on his arse just now."

"Oi!" whispers Ron, as Harry gets up. "You're making us lads look bad."

Once on his feet, Harry dusts himself off before raising his wand. "Your turn to attack, Miss Granger."

_"Depulso!"_

_"Protego!"_

Hermione side-steps her deflected spell while smiling at Harry. "Unlike you, I've dodged."

"Right-o, people, pair up and practice! Remember, the basic and most reliable shield charm consists of an upward swipe. Concentrate on what you expect the opponent to throw at you. Otherwise, you've got a small window to mentally prepare as the attack comes your way."

Although Hermione remains smiling, she nudges Harry in the side while whispering. "Hey, Professor, no need to overload them with information. Remember, even Ministry workers can't all produce a superb shield charm like you. So don't expect everyone to absorb and use your lengthy explanations here."

To everyone's surprise, Neville makes a remarkable amount of progress which rivals that of the older students. Yasmin, Cedric, Angelina, etc. all look on in astonishment as Neville manages to deflect Harry's minor attacks.

"Superb, Neville, I take it your duel on the slopes motivated you to improve?" asks Harry, to which Neville shakes his head.

"Not really, it was more the Azkaban escape. You know, that monster you supposedly spoke to in prison. Why did you compliment  _her_  in the newspapers?"

Before Harry can respond, Ginny offers to practice with Neville, and immediately backs him up. "Yes, Harry, that's what I've asked you as well. I would've spoken out against the vile monster that hurt Neville's parents."

"Yeah well, it's easier said than done, Ginny," Harry looks at the pair of questioning Gryffindors standing before him. "You haven't been within a few feet of Bellatrix, she's got an intimidating presence—"

"Don't call her by just her first name," says Neville. "It makes it seem like you don't hate her."

"I'm entitled to call her whatever I want since I've been to Azkaban, don't you think?" Harry places his arms on his sides before leaving Ginny to practice with Neville. "Anybody wanna practice with me? I'd like to have a partner..."

"How about two-on-one?" asks Parvati, standing beside her twin. "Let's see how strong Mr. Dragonfire's shield charm really is."

"Two-on-one, yes..." Harry throws up his barrier as the twins launch their barrage of spells at him. Eventually, Parvati's impressive Reductor Curse smashes it before Harry counterattacks.

"I wish my Reductor Curse was as good as yours," says Padma to her twin, while blocking Harry's minor jinxes. "You're the best out of us all, and poor Ginny's trying to catch up."

"I think we're all very good at something," says Parvati, taking a short break once Harry smashes through her weak shield charm. "Your shield charm's a little better than mine, but it's your Impediment Jinx that's quite impressive."

Standing a few metres to Parvati's left is Ginny who adds: "Yes, we all know you've aced  _Reducto_ , Parvati, but my something is the Bat-Bogey Hex. Nobody can do it like me."

"Hey, let's tone down on the competition and work together in getting good with the shield charm," says Harry. "In real life, the shield charm is an absolutely essential part of surviving—"

A slight laugh is heard from behind Harry as Hermione speaks. "Here we go, another lecture coming up. All hail Professor Potter!"

"—this isn't some ninja movie... whoops, sorry about the Muggle reference..." Harry pauses to acknowledge the various looks of confusion, though some nod in agreement.

"Yeah! It's better to block than dodge in some cases, huh?" asks Colin Creevey, while more Muggleborns and Half-Bloods (those with Muggle knowledge) murmur in understanding.

"What is this ninja thing?" asks Yasmin, looking around at the somewhat smug students who understand Harry's reference. "Sounds like a foreign plant or something."

"Muggle stuff." Harry tries to give a brief description of a ninja, causing unexpected laughter from those less understanding towards Muggles. "So yeah, it's not like we can go leaping far to the side to evade our enemies' attacks. I try but it just ends up a little leap. Otherwise, it's either get behind something, side-step, or hit the dirt. Don't worry about how you look when doing that, just get out the way if you can't block a spell in time."

"But wouldn't dodging be preferable in most cases?" asks Cedric, "Like you dodged the Horntail back then."

"Sometimes, I guess. But being able to effectively and swiftly cast a shield charm is the hallmark of a good wizard."

"Get on with the meeting," says Marietta, which is exactly what Harry does over the next hour and a half. Upon the meeting's conclusion, he bids the group goodnight before settling down the couch beside Hermione.

"Well, that went rather well," she says, smiling in delight. "Now, let's hit the books again, Mister."

"Yeah, not like I have any choice in the matter," says Harry, feeling no pain whatsoever as her soft fingers caress his famous scar. Over the next hour, Harry gradually loses focus while his breaths become slow and eased as he lays against Hermione.

"I should charge you for falling asleep on me every time," whispers a yawning Hermione. "Charge you for making me smell your different shampoos so much..."

Little of note happens while Harry continues Polyjuicing himself into the occasional class or two (or more) throughout the week. On Friday evening, however, two vastly different vibes can be felt across the school. For nearly half of Slytherin, it's sheer pride in their upgraded Quidditch team. Everyone else expresses clear disappointment at Nott's outrageously unfair advantage for tomorrow's game.

Saturday morning soon arrives and Harry, having yet again overslept from dreaming about the windowless corridor, crawls out of bed. Late breakfast is stuffed down in ten minutes before he gets dressed and slips beneath his Invisibility Cloak. After racing down many staircases, Harry casts the Obliteration Charm while descending the snowy slopes outside.

The noise of countless spectators grows louder as Harry nears and eventually enters through the Gryffindor tunnel. Lee Jordan's disdainful tone soon alarms Harry even before the score's announced.

"...Quaffle passed to Vaisey who, again, spins around on the right flank. Cadwallader and Smith powering on their Nimbus 1700's but it's nowhere near enough! Team Slytherin exploit their Firebolts by speeding past 100 miles per hour in seconds! Quaffle goes from Vaisey to Nott... Nott zipping forward to challenge Herbert Fleet at the hoops... What a waste of a Saturday morning! Where's the fun when it's so utterly mismatched in brooms... goal, yaaaay, scored by Captain Theodore Nott yet again. 180-40 in favour of Slytherin."

Loud boos echo throughout the stadium while Harry tries to creep forward... to see what exactly is going on around here. Now he spots the source of the audible disapproval as Nott stops before the Slytherin stands (half of whom cheer for their team). To Harry's fury, Nott stands atop his broom to perform an exaggerated, awful excuse of a dance.

"Son of a... I mean, what a CHEAP, LAME EXCUSE OF AN INSULT TOWARDS HARRY POTTER! That's the seventh time today that Nott's made a mockery of whatever Harry Potter used to do in his Quidditch matches. Admit it, Slytherin, he was the best player you folks had in a loooooong time!"

A steadily increasing applause builds up within the Slytherin stands while approximately a quarter boo at Lee's comment. This spectacle of inter-House tension makes Harry wonder just how they're refraining from outright violence in the stands.

He now searches the Gryffindor locker room to retrieve a pair of Omnioculars from Ron's locker. Using the device allows Harry to view the podium where McGonagall whispers to Lee while shaking her head.

"Right," says Lee, "Moving on from the glaring obvious... Quaffle goes from Montague to Nott as the Slytherin Chasers simply speed away. No skilful passing, no manoeuvres, just zipping forward yet again. Hufflepuff's Beaters are beaten to the Bludgers by Crabbe and Goyle who make use of their Firebolts. Of course, they don't use it as good as a certain Slytherin-who-the-Ministry-frowns-upon, but it's an advantage still."

Two Bludgers are whacked in the direction of Herbert Fleet, knocking aside the Hufflepuff Keeper as Montague scores with ease.

"That puts it on 190-40," says Lee, "Carry on with the match. Play restarted by Fleet who passes to Summerby. Summerby to Smith... Smith heading down the left flank... seems interesting! Nice pass to Cadwallader just as Nott and Vaisey come in at over 100 miles per hour. Can Hufflepuff go forward for their first non-penalty goal of this match? Here they go... oh look!"

The crowd roars with approval as Cedric Diggory opts in to assist his Chasers.

"That-a-boy, Cedric! The Captain's leading the charge as four Badgers split up near the centre of the pitch. They're working a plan now, folks! Slytherin trio coming in at unbelievable speed but narrowly miss the Quaffle. Diggory passing forward... Summerby gets it... shoots... deflected by Zabini with his Firebolt... Quaffle on the rebound taken by Smith... SCORE! 190-50 as Hufflepuff put up that fight!"

Harry's, and most of the stadium's, joy is short-lived as Nott reverts to their earlier tactics. The failsafe, albeit absolutely unfair and dreary, method of simply speeding away proves extremely effective. More Slytherins goals come racking in while both Malfoy and Nott... everyone, in fact, take to mocking their predecessor team. Harry spots more insults towards his celebration and dancing while others (particularly Montague) mock Marcus Flint.

Crabbe and Goyle try their best to mock Derrick and Bole after the Firebolt-equipped duo assist with their Chasers' goals. Even Zabini, as arrogant as ever, speeds away from his goalposts to slot in goals assisted by Nott.

Lee sighs behind the magical megaphone. "Well, when you've got a team where everyone's capable of going 0-150 in ten seconds... this is what happens if the opponent simply cannot. Here comes Nott flying in after speeding away from Summerby and Cadwallader. Shot fired... blocked by Fleet, another shot... BLOCKED AGAIN! OH COME ON..."

Harry spots Crabbe and Goyle easily speeding to reach the Bludgers before McManus and Stebbins. Seconds later, Summerby and Cadwallader are hit before Nott slots in the goal.

"Good performance, Fleet, you put up a brilliant fight. Too bad your Chasers couldn't help since their Beaters were cheaply outflown to the Bludgers. Game carries on at 240-50, and I wonder when Malfoy will start looking for the Snitch? Wait a minute... oh, as expected..."

"To hell with this crap," Harry scoffs while heading to take a seat in the Gryffindor locker room as Malfoy slots in a few goals. For the next half an hour, Harry decides upon seizing an opportunity for some basic Occlumency.

"...goal by Vaisey, putting Slytherin on 280 to Hufflepuff's 50. Malfoy finally spotting the Golden Snitch..."

Lee's commentary slightly fades as Harry forces himself to disregard the match. His emotions now cleared while emptying his thoughts as much as possible. Nothing but a blabbering Lee and a distant buzz of spectators fills the locker room as Harry remains focused. 290...300...310...320...330... More goals come Slytherin's way as the early afternoon arrives. But it matters little to Harry now, he'll deal with Malfoy and Nott when the time comes.

More minutes of trying to close his mind pass by... but then a most emphatic laugh by Lee Jordan brings Harry out of his efforts.

"HAHAHAHA! WHAT A LAD! WHAT SKILL! WHAT A WAY TO END YOUR FINAL GAME AT HOGWARTS, MR. CEDRIC DIGGORY!"

Hearing (and almost feeling) the tremendous roar of approval and applause around the stadium, Harry grins while Lee announces Cedric's capture of the Snitch.

"Malfoy showing off some skill on his Firebolt, yes, but Cedric's simply the better Seeker! That ought to ignite some hope for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw to have a shot at the Quidditch Cup this year. Thank you, Cedric, cheer for him and his team, folks!"

Pro-Hufflepuff chants flood the stadium from every House, including the Slytherin group against Nott's team.

"Alright, let's have a look at where everyone stands. Games played: Gryffindor on 1, Hufflepuff on 3, Ravenclaw on 2, Slytherin on 2. Point tallies are as follows, Slytherin on 460 even after being beaten to the Snitch twice. That just shows how it's not always about the Seekers, although Cedric's done good for his team today. Hufflepuff ending their season on 470, quite impressive I must say! Gryffindor on 270 with two games in hand while Ravenclaw sits at 200 with one game left. Next up, we'll have Gryffindor against Ravenclaw on the 21st of February."

For the rest of the weekend, Cedric Diggory is hailed as a hero by everyone against the anti-Potter Slytherins.

"Get your badges here," Fred and George can be heard walking through the corridors on Sunday, the 26th. "6 Sickles each!"

Monday arrives, and Harry smiles upon seeing many students wearing the twins' canary yellow badges. Nearly two hundred are reported to have been sold throughout the school, although the twins gift Harry a free one.

"Uh, thanks, but I'd pay if you'd like," he says, while lounging on the couch in the Room of Requirement. "Take a Galleon and keep the change."

Hermione, seated beside Harry during today's lunch hour, also pays a Galleon without requesting change.

"We should've priced them at a Galleon, Fred," says George, "At the rate they're selling..."

"No, no, this is all part of equal opportunity, yeah?" Fred stands near a duelling practice dummy while looking at his twin. "Make 'em cheap enough for everyone to afford, since our real profits ought to come from the joke shop... whenever we get that going."

"Yeah," says Harry, "I remember you guys wanting to set something like that up. Already got a variety of products, I presume?"

"Oh, they sure do," sighs Hermione, "Very irresponsible testing on students too. I have half a mind to enforce my Prefect duties and confiscate the lot."

Fred squats beside the couch while wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "But you won't, right? Because you're on our side, Granger. The right side. You know, the side against the tyrannical oppression of Dolores Umbridge instigated by the Ministry."

"The Ministry, yes," George stands behind Hermione while poking her shoulder. "The very people who are giving your precious Potter, lovey dovey boyfriend, future husband—"

"Excuse me, WHAT?" Hermione's cheeks turn as red as Harry's seen this year.

"—a terrible time."

The room goes silent save for Harry's barely contained laughter as Hermione finally nods in agreement. "Fine, but only because that toad thing is wrecking our school. When she's gone, though..."

"You'll be too busy kissing Harry to notice our products going around the school," says a smiling Fred. "Speaking of which, we'd best stash today's profits before the inevitable confiscation occurs."

"How much did you guys make off these Cedric badges?" asks Harry.

"Well, 17 Sickles to a Galleon and we sold just around two hundred I think—" Fred's calculations are interrupted by a smiling Hermione.

"Simple. 6 Sickles multiplied by 200 equals 1200. Divide that by seventeen"—she mutters an incantation while waving her wand at a piece of parchment—"and you end up with roughly 70 and a half Galleons. Or you can put it as 70 Galleons and 8-9 Sickles."

"Your brain... too much for me to handle," says Harry, gawking at a smug Hermione. "You make me feel dumb at times."

"Don't be ridiculous," laughs Hermione, "It's a simple matter of Mathematics. Possibly at Muggle primary school level, yep. I appreciate the flattery and exaggeration, though."

"Nice capitalising on Cedric's efforts, I must admit," Harry nods in approval while eyeing the palm-sized spherical badge. Its yellow background adorned by a black letters:

_THANK YOU, CEDRIC!_

When pushed (much like Harry's badge from years back) the message switches to:

_BLESS YOU, CEDRIC!_

A third option includes:

_WE LOVE YOU, CEDRIC!_

"Think he'll get tired of seeing this?" asks Hermione.

"Never," Harry lays back on the couch to reminisce about his fourth year, pre-Little Hangleton. "I remember when my supporters brought out their badges... Things like that truly make one miss being a part of school again."

"Cheer up, mate," says George, "You'll be back, and it's bound to happen at some point."

Following lunch hour, Harry studies in the Room of Requirement until swapping out with Ron before today's final class.

"Make sure to rub it in Malfoy's face when Umbridge isn't around," says Ron. "Who do they think they are? Firebolt gits. At least you never got the whole team such brooms, makes for a boring game."

With fifteen minutes to go until 3pm, Harry jogs beside Hermione en route to the third floor, soon entering Classroom 3C. No Umbridge present in the full class makes Harry grin while flashing his badge.

"Hey, Malfoy," he sneers while clicking it, causing Malfoy's boys to stand up from their seats.

"Leave it, boys," says Malfoy, "Weasley's again in stupid, sorry,  _more stupid_  mode now. Don't you understand why Professor Umbridge is taking so long to get to class? She's usually here before three o'clock... Nott, care to enlighten this reject of a Prefect?"

A smirking Nott stands beside his desk while facing Harry across the classroom. "For those who attend Divination, you might've noticed the High Inquisitor supervising those sessions, just like with the stupid giant-oaf outside."

"Don't you dare talk about Hagrid," mutters Harry. "That 'giant-oaf' is more than ten times the man you or Malfoy's fathers will ever be. And I'm not referring to Hagrid's size."

"Yeah, yeah, very sappy," replies Nott. "Anyway, Madam Umbridge is really losing her patience with Treloony, and who can blame her? So, excuse her for taking some time to 'chat' with your most-likely-to-be-fired Divination teacher.

"Nice story." Harry snorts at being so dismissive of Nott (even as Ronald Weasley). "Anyway, I like how you prats spent so much on getting geared up with all Firebolts only to lose out on 150 more points."

"Hope you were paying attention to Saturday's match, Weasel King," says Zabini. "Because Gryffindor are getting it worse than that in the final. Diggory may have gotten lucky, but your filthy, overrated, stink of a sister won't. Come at us, Weasel, come on... Now where's the Professor when one needs her?"

Usually, Ron would have flared up after such an insult against Ginny. But, this time, Hermione offers Harry a means to sit down without eliciting suspicion.

"Don't let them get to you, Ron! They're just trying to goad you into landing in detention."

"Shut up, Mudblood," mutters Malfoy, "Always making them alert, stupid chickens."

"Hey, leave blood status out of this, you certified prat," says Dean Thomas, while Seamus nods wholeheartedly.

"Yeah, Malfoy, you git, piss off already."

Umbridge soon enters the class, and the Gryffindors quickly return to their seats. None would risk the possibility of a detention interfering with whenever the next D.A. meeting happens to be. Today's class, however, proves to be as tedious and dreary as any Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson this year.

The arrival of February sees Ron and Hermione adding another section to the Room of Requirement. Namely, a greenhouse for Harry to join them in revising Herbology practicals. This, in addition to already practicing fifth-year Potions in his room, leaves Harry with even less time to wander about the castle.

"It's just too bad that a Potion created with anything conjured up by the room doesn't last very long outside," says Hermione one afternoon, after completing a strengthening solution alongside Harry. "Let's say a fight broke out and we ingested this potion, we'd be normal in a matter of seconds I think."

Ron nods in agreement. "Yeah, the room really doesn't like its conjured stuff removed, even less so for consumables. Nothing's perfect, I guess."

The Room of Requirement may not be perfect, but it's good enough to afford the trio (especially Harry) some sorely needed revision. Between Polyjuicing himself, continuing with D.A. meetings, practicing Occlumency, and training with Team Gryffindor, Harry relishes the busy schedule. Anything is better than tediously spending all day practicing combat in the Room of Requirement, as he's often done.

February the 14th brings both the second Hogsmeade trip as well as Valentine's Day. But it's a day spent within the castle for Harry who's unwilling to risk the snowy streets outside.

"Here, I Transfigured this for you," says Hermione, handing over a little rose.

"You giving this out of love or pity?" asks Harry, after pocketing the flower.

"Both, perhaps," Hermione beams as Harry grabs her into a hug followed by a kiss. "It's a pity you're unwilling to come to Hogsmeade, because..." She reveals her secretive blackmailing of Rita Skeeter. "Rita's gotta listen to me now, which means you could publish the names of the Death Eaters you saw in the graveyard. Luna's father would no doubt gladly oblige such a request."

"Hermione..."

"Yes? Something wrong, darling?" She giggles while looking at him on the couch. "I'm calling you that especially for today."

"Have you forgotten that Pansy's mum is also a Death Eater who's managed to avoid Azkaban after Voldemort's downfall? I can't risk shaming her like that now."

"But if she was sincere, wouldn't Mrs. Parkinson change her ways? Why did she join Voldemort in the first place?"

Harry shrugs while answering. "That, I can't answer because I'm just not sure. But what I do know is that one doesn't just 'change their ways' with Voldemort and expect to get out alive. The Dark Mark brands you in servitude for life. Pansy's already lost her father way back somehow, perhaps I'll tell you someday. Last thing I'd want is for her to lose her mum to jail which people like Nott would definitely exploit. In case you've forgotten, Pansy's one of the prettiest Purebloods in school. Naturally, she's desired by many horrible, discriminative kids around, including Zabini, Nott, et cetera..."

"When you reason it like that..." Hermione sighs while leaning forward on the couch. "Yes, I suppose Parkinson is a pretty girl, and with a lovely voice too. Ugh, even she shouldn't end up dating rotten people like those you've mentioned. Hmm... I'll take one for the team then."

"What do you mean by that?" asks Harry, glancing quizzically at a thoughtful Hermione.

"If you omit Pansy's mum even though you saw her in the graveyard, it'll look suspicious. Wasn't it you that said Voldemort doesn't really care what the kids do in school? He doesn't care that Pansy's your friend?"

Nodding, Harry snarls in contempt. "Tom fails to understand  _love_ , he probably thinks nothing of what goes on between Pansy and I. But for me to blatantly omit Holly Parkinson's name, however, might create tensions between her and the rest of the Death Eaters."

"Mm-hmm, yep, that's why it's best if I do it my way." Hermione tilts her nose in the air. "All I'll say is that we've been in contact but I could only get a bit of information out of you. So, who are the Death Eaters you absolutely hate the most?"

"Damn," sighs Harry, "looks like we've hit another snag: Bartemius Crouch Jr. As much as I absolutely loathe him, his father's entire life is on the line right now. Exposing Junior would wreck the life of Crouch Senior at this point..."

Hermione gives Harry such a sad look that his heart (figuratively) melts. "Nothing's ever easy for you, huh? It's unfair how you keep all these secrets and favours for others, and what do they give you in return?"

"Well, it's useful to have a friendly face in the Department of International Magical Cooperation... the Head of Department, no less. That, and Crouch Senior having dispensed some helpful advice before my trial. Pansy, well, she's just Pansy! Nothing more needs to be said about that."

"Okay, so I'll omit more than a few names... I'll say you recall Theodore Nott Sr., Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, and Walden Macnair among the group."

Harry gives a slight laugh while responding. "Wow, that's so obvious as to me getting back at my roommates... but why Macnair as well?"

"He gave Hagrid a hard time with the giants and ultimately caused the mission to fail," says Hermione.

"But if I don't personally give the interview, who's gonna believe you?"

"People might not know that you're within the school, but everyone knows that Ron and I have been in contact with you." Hermione now smirks while looking at Harry. "Umbridge can't figure out how or when we've been communicating."

A concerned expression crosses Harry's face as he leans closer to Hermione. "Yeah, I suppose people might be willing to take heed of your words. But do you really wish to do this? You're getting enough hate from being a—"

"Mudblood, I know. Mudblood and proud of it!" She folds her arms and leans back on the couch. "Everyone in the D.A., well... except some like Marietta, feels bad for you with regards to Azkaban, and that includes me. I still shudder at the thought of how it must've been for you while all of us had our summer holidays."

"Don't let me guilt trip you into doing something dangerous, Hermione."

"I'm sick and tired of watching those boys strutting around like they own the school. Let's see how Malfoy and co. handle a taste of hostile media. So, to confirm, it's Malfoy, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Macnair to be included, right?"

"Yep, that sounds reasonable enough for me to have remembered," says Harry. "You don't suppose this might cause tensions against Pansy, right? I can't afford to have her kicked out the Inquisitorial Squad this early."

"Pansy's a clever one,  _in case you've forgotten_ ," says Hermione. "Even if people like Nott or Malfoy find it suspicious and approach her over Mrs. Parkinson's omission, the damage will be minimal. I'll give your Pansy a heads-up the next time we're near each other on patrol. She'll know what to say to keep good with Umbridge."

"Oh, and could you do me a favour?" asks Harry. "I can't risk Umbridge intercepting my mail so please owl Fleur from Hogsmeade, will you? Send her a flower and well wishes on my behalf. I... can't seem to think up an appropriate letter to write."

A bright smile crosses Hermione's face at Harry's uncertain expression. "So, the smart-mouthed Harry Potter is finally lost for words? Okay, I'll Transfigure Fleur a flower and write out a lovely poem. For additional security I'll say it's from her 'leetle boy', that ought to be obvious enough for her."

"Thanks, you're a true gem of a woman."

"Be grateful I don't charge for being your cupid owl, Mister Potter." Hermione appears thoughtful once again. "Want me to slip Pansy a letter as well? I could easily 'bump' into her and slip it in her hand out there. Can't do a rose though, too big."

"Yeah, you do that... I'll just be here studying and whatever on Valentine's Day. Oh, and one last thing..." Harry heads to his room before returning with a pouch of coins. "Some incentive for Rita, seeing as she's unemployed as you've said. There's about 50 Galleons in here."

"She should consider herself lucky," says Hermione while pocketing the pouch. "Considering that  _The Quibbler_  doesn't pay at all."

"Oh crap! There's... just one thing though," says Harry, "If you get this article printed then surely I'd be receiving much feedback, right?"

"Yes! Those letters will come flying in...oh..."

They glance upon each other with equal looks of disappointment and concern.

"You're supposed to be at your Muggle home," says Hermione, "but all those owls would probably track you here. It'll be a huge red alert if Umbridge intercepts those letters."

"And even if I do go home, the Dursleys wouldn't appreciate any owls swooping in at breakfast... It was a great idea though, Hermione, but I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry that your life is so full of difficulty and hardships." She pats him on the back before offering a hug and a kiss. "Rita's still coming to see me in the Three Broomsticks later today though..."

"Just give her half the fee and say that, in different circumstances, we'd have given her an interesting article to write."

Following Hermione's departure for Hogsmeade, Harry draws his wand and spends the next few hours attempting non-verbal spellcasting. Gripping his wand with thumb on top, three fingers around the bottom, and pinkie one around the bone hook, Harry tries to focus. It helps to use the mind-clearing of Occlumency in order to better concentrate upon an incantation.

 _"Stupefy!"_ He mentally shouts, firing a few weak, then below-average, then acceptable stunners over the next hour. Remembering how Moody had once made use of clamouring distractions during their practice sessions, Harry requests that the room do the same. Now, through a racket of bewitched furniture, he battles to focus non-verbally.

After at least four long, tedious hours of practice, he now opts to brew an O.W.L. level potion. Alone he sits within his bedroom, following instructions and adding ingredients as required. It's dreary and dull indeed, but an absolute necessity should Harry finally be granted permission to return to Hogwarts this year.

Later in the day, around mid-afternoon, Hermione returns to the Room of Requirement. Her crestfallen expression immediately switches to a smile upon seeing Harry surrounded by textbooks.

"Now this is a sight for sore eyes," she sits beside him on the ground while inspecting his completed potion. "Seems okay, not bad at all for someone who only occasionally goes to class." The topic now shifts to Hermione's meeting with Rita Skeeter. "So... she's 'happy', if that's what you can call it, and appreciative of your donation. Because, let's face it, that's what it was since there wasn't any article to write. Anyway, Rita said the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as well as the Department of International Magical Cooperation, have deemed it a criminal offense to be caught writing you a letter."

Harry's mouth falls open in surprise at this revelation while Hermione carries on:

"There's up to an 80 Galleon fine imposed on ordinary folks sending mail to a 'dangerous individual' like you. That's why you haven't got anything from Hedwig really at Hogwarts so far." She now smiles while looking straight at Harry. "Fudge is all smug about his rules but nobody realises these ones are actually protecting your presence here at Hogwarts. Problem is, an article like the one we planned would've brought swarms of mail to you. More than a few might slip through and be intercepted in school."

"Thank Kingsley and Mr. Crouch for covering my arse, I guess."

More days pass by in another busy week for Harry. Occlumency, D.A. meeting, Quidditch practice, theoretical and hands-on studying... the arduous routine leaves him knackered each and every night. Hermione, whose roommates are all part of the D.A. anyway, spends many a night 'cuddle-studying' with Harry on the couch (or bed).

"You know," says a yawning Harry on Thursday evening, "I reckon I'm working harder as an expelled student compared to back in the day. Ironic, isn't it?"

Yawning widely as well, Hermione lays back while replying. "Just think of how much stronger this has made you, Harry. All the rubbish in the world coming against you, and yet the big, bad Potter fights on. With my help, of course!"

"I forgot to ask: How many Polyjuice doses do I have left? I'm starting to get tired of all this impersonation stuff..."

"Overall, we've got 16 doses stored. You really went nuts with the Polyjuice idea this year, hmm?" Hermione laughs before being interrupted by another yawn. "16 Doses left... and I think we've just finished the fifth cauldron at the start of February. How many did you say you bought from the apothecary?"

His eyes may be burning from exhaustion, but Harry nonetheless tries to think. "I thought we'd reach a dozen cauldrons but I guess the storekeeper was right. Ten is actually a better estimate. Argh, my mind is too tired to think right now."

"I'll make it simple for Mr. Sleepyhead then," says Hermione. "Over there we've got two cauldrons currently brewing, both started around the beginning of February. So the sixth and seventh batch will be done around the 23th of February, yep. That's a dozen more doses coming your way in under ten days' time..." Both students swiftly fall asleep after wearing themselves out with mental calculations.

Friday brings about a rather tense History of Magic session between fifth-year Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, considering tomorrow's Quidditch game. Harry, disguised as Ron yet again, sits at the back of the class discussing the match. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst lean in their desks to debate with Harry, Dean, and Seamus.

"Can't you lot make it easier for us?" asks Harry to a sniggering Mandy.

"You guys might be in a better position to challenge for the Cup, but this is sportsmanship... not to mention House points for Ravenclaw too. Nope, we're going at it full-force."

Seamus whispers rather loudly. "Our Lions are gonna take the match, no offence to you lot. We're going in hard to prepare for them snakes in the final, right, Ron?"

"Yeah, I ain't letting many goals through tomorrow, just you watch," Harry grins as Dean backs him up (while Hermione remains the sole student here knowing that it's actually Harry.)

"Our team definitely needs to rack as many goals past you eagles as possible," says Dean. "Damn snakes and their Firebolts are gonna give us absolute hell!"

Terry Boot voices his displeasure. "I still can't believe they're actually allowed such a mad advantage. That's utterly preposterous for school level Quidditch."

The bell soon sounds for lunch hour, but for fifth-year Gryffindor this signals the end of another academic week.

"Double free period after lunch!" shouts Harry, while walking between Hermione and Seamus down the corridor. "Which fifth-year Lion doesn't love Thursdays and Fridays?"

"You gonna do some practice outside, Ron?" asks Seamus, "Dean and me can be Chaser to help you block them shots."

"Yeah, sounds great after lunch," Harry turns to look at Hermione, "and you?"

"She plays?!" asks Dean.

"Oi, shhhh!" Harry smacks him on the shoulder. "That's supposed to be a secret, you know. She wants to stick it to Malfoy, am I right?"

Hermione's expression seems less confident than usual. "But now that they've got those wicked expensive brooms, I'm not sure..."

"We'll continue our practice, and then you can decide for yourself," says Harry, before whispering in Hermione's ear. "We'll continue in the room, that is."

Meanwhile, the group makes their way to the Great Hall while Ron dines in the Room of Requirement. As expected, team Slytherin jeers and mocks Harry upon entering the Great Hall.

"Lucky first game against the Duffers, Weasel," says Malfoy. "But let's see what happens tomorrow, and, eventually, in the final. Third time will not be the charm for you, loser."

"Ah, go play with your Firebolt, Malfoy," Harry laughs while heading to Ron's usual seat. "So much money spent and yet...  _thank you, Cedric_ , ahahahaha!"

"Laugh while you can," warns Nott, "Laugh while you can..."

"Go threaten your tramp father, Nott," says Harry, now walking around the Gryffindor table to sit down beside Hermione. "So, should I dish for you, Hermione?"

Many heads turn their way in curiosity as Harry dishes up Hermione's lunch. The latter giggling while swiftly covering up for Harry.

"Oh, don't look so shocked," she looks at Lavender sitting on Ron's right. "He's just overexcited for tomorrow's match. You'd better dish up Lavender's food too."

"Yeah, of course!" Harry follows up by dishing for a giggling Lavender as well. "We're gonna get those points tomorrow then stick it to Nott the rot, regardless of their Firebolts!"

 


	20. One Step Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dumbledore certainly seems far more approachable for this Harry than in OoTP canon where he outright ignores him. Thing is, even Dumbledore can't bring himself to ignore a boy who's been expelled, seen his wand snapped, and spent time in Azkaban. The risk of Voldemort spying is ever-present but then again, this Harry appears to be making progress in Occlumency. So he has a bit more of Dumbledore's trust in this AU.

_Saturday, February 21st, 1996._

"I'm feeling it today, mate, I think I'm ready," says Ron, standing near Harry in the Room of Requirement.

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely! After seeing you as me owning Hufflepuff, I'm willing to give it a go today. Besides, if I mess up then there's still the match against Slytherin later."

"Alright, good luck, I guess." Harry pats Ron on the back as the latter exits the Room of Requirement. With nothing else to do after breakfast, Harry opts to watch the game from the sidelines. That is, until a flash of fire brings a piece of parchment floating to the ground.

_Dear Harry,_

_Your presence is required at today's debate in the Ministry of Magic._

_Kindly be at my office at noon_.

_P.S. Wizochoc._

With three hours to spare, Harry forces himself to study through Astronomy and Transfiguration theory. Minutes before twelve o'clock, he throws on his Invisibility Cloak and heads to the second floor. Soon, the password is muttered causing the stone gargoyle to move aside and reveal a spiralling staircase.

"Good morning, Harry, apologies if I've interrupted any plans you may have had for today's match."

Harry sets the Cloak aside before shutting the door. "Morning, sir. No stress, Ronald's feeling confident enough to give it a shot. Hopefully he does better than what I've heard from his previous attempt."

Dumbledore nods before explaining that today's trial is scheduled for 1pm.

"Are we heading to the Ministry straight away?" asks Harry.

"I think it would be best to arrive on time, and not before," says Dumbledore, "That little trick shouldn't be reused so soon. In the meantime, how's your Occlumency sessions with Professor Snape faring?"

Although Harry suspects Dumbledore already knows the answer, he responds out of courtesy.

"Pretty well, or as well as can be. But I still dream of the windowless corridor on occasion, and I'm still seeing myself trying to open that black door."

Dumbledore stands up from his desk and starts pacing around the office while speaking. "I thought as much, but at least your urge to strike at me has diminished, correct?"

Harry nods then smiles upon feeling a slight tinge in his mind while looking at his Headmaster. "You're attempting Legilimency, right, sir?"

"Well spotted, Harry." Dumbledore smiles while continuing to speak. "The answer to your unasked question is 'yes'. Professor Snape and I have entered your mind on occasion since you've begun school. Those first two years were rather crucial, you see..."

Getting upset and feeling distrusted certainly springs to mind, but Harry pauses for thought. Could this finally be an opportunity to lash out at Dumbledore for making Harry wait so long? The prospect of remaining expelled even after all these months feels frustrating enough. Then there's the vast uncertainty regarding the Department of Mysteries. Why doesn't anyone ever inform him of what's truly happening? And now the Headmaster admits to prying into little Harry's mind?

"I understand, Professor," Harry sets aside his emotions, especially that of petty tantrums. "Considering the glaring similarities between myself and Tom, well, I'd be surprised if you weren't looking into my mind, sir. Slytherin can be a very toxic place if one makes the 'wrong sort' of friends."

"Who we are is not always determined by our House. I wouldn't generalize toxicity to Slytherin, nor can we, for example, attribute bravery to just Gryffindor."

"Seems true, sir. Not all of us are evil."

"In fact, I know a particular Half-Blood Slytherin that's been set straight by a strong sense of affection. He was influenced by his discriminative acquaintances, you see, and said things he's come to regret. But, eventually, he came across the body of his dearest Muggleborn then resolved to set things right..."

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" asks Harry.

"Maybe," Dumbledore gives a slightly odd smile before Harry nods.

"Yes, I'll admit that I was rather mean to Hermione after spending time with the boys. I never had friends before Hogwarts, so I got caught up with the crowd. Said things to fit in, poked fun at Hermione for being a know-it-all. Then she ended up petrified..."

They stand in silence which is broken by Phineas Nigellus' portrait.

"Yes, yes, very touching of you, Mr. Potter. Now how about strategizing for today's debate, hmm? It's February, going on March, already."

"Let the boy speak, Phineas!" argues the portrait of Armando Dippet, Hogwarts' previous Headmaster. "We both know how similar, and yet different, he is to a certain student from my time. Right, Dumbledore?"

"Correct," says Dumbledore, "Therefore, it was quite fitting for young Harry to put an end to the monster unleashed in the Chamber of Secrets. Now, let us be off."

As instructed, Harry slips on his Cloak before heading out to Hogsmeade with Dumbledore. The latter now performs a spell to disguise his robes to Muggle formal wear. From here they Disapparate (side-along for Harry) to a spot surrounded by lush bushes.

"Where are we, sir?"

"Just a stone's throw away from a certain telephone box," says Dumbledore, leading them through the gardens and towards the packed streets. "As you can see, or heard, my Disapparition and Apparition are silent. Nearly everyone else emits a loud 'pop' from there's."

They traverse many side-walks before finally reaching the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

"Sir, someone's standing at the box!" says an alarmed Harry, upon seeing a Muggle girl chewing gum while dressed as a skater-girl. "How are we going to get rid of them without breaking the law on using magic against Muggles?"

"Simple," Dumbledore smiles while walking right up to the girl. "Shouldn't you be in school, young truant?"

The girl's eyes search the area around Dumbledore before she smiles. "I'd rather ask that to the  _leetle boy_ , hahaha! Come on out, Harry, no need to be scared... wherever you are."

"Wha—" Harry slips off the Cloak as the girl winks at him.

"Like my fashion? Sirius says it's hardly different than I usually wear."

"Nymphadora?"

"It's Tonks!" Her wide-eyed glare sends a slight shiver down Harry's spine before he apologizes. Then, Kingsley Shacklebolt appears seemingly out of nowhere behind the box.

"Disillusionment Charm, Potter, although it's not as good as having an Invisibility Cloak," he says. "Speaking of which, I'd suggest letting Tonks take it to Sirius' place."

Tonks ruffles Harry's hair while smiling. "You didn't expect to go walking into the Ministry under your Cloak, did you? Best to keep it safe at home. I'll take that, thank you."

She throws on the Cloak while Dumbledore and Harry enter the Ministry, followed by Kingsley. Reporters crowd around to question them, and Harry responds with 'no comment' all the way until presenting his decoy wand at security. From here the trio of Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Harry, board an empty lift taking them down one floor.

"My suspicions are correct," says Dumbledore, "Initially, the debate was set to be on Level Two. But once Fudge requested to have you join us, Harry, it was then switched to courtroom ten."

Kingsley nods while looking at Harry. "Officially, it's easy to understand the change as being proactive caution against a 'dangerous individual' like you. But Dumbledore and I are no fools, it's clear someone's convinced Fudge to bring it down here again."

"The hidden Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy, I'd bet." Harry scoffs as the lift reaches Level Nine. "Here we go with that damned corridor again, I'll try to ignore it..."

They step out into the windowless corridor which has constantly plagued Harry's dreams. The plain black door within reach... so close... if he could just shake off these two, then he'd get it. But get what, exactly? Harry shakes his head before hurrying behind Dumbledore and Kingsley as they descend the flight of stairs.

"Since you aren't being accused and standing trial, the accusation chair won't bind you now," says Kingsley, as Harry soon takes his seat in the centre of the room. A dreary few minutes pass by before members of the Wizengamot trickle in to take their seats.

Harry, who's truly bored of all these debates and politics, sits with his right elbow propped on the armrest. His cheek rests on his palm while he battles the urge to yawn as Dumbledore and Fudge exchange arguments.

"Mr. Potter," says Umbridge, seated near the Minister. "Please present yourself as expected of someone sitting before the Wizengamot."

Dumbledore then replies on Harry's behalf. "Mr. Potter is but a fifteen year old boy, in case it isn't clear enough, Madam Umbridge. How many trials and debates do you intend on subjecting him to before a proper decision is made? The boy is wasting away at home with his Muggle relatives whereas Hogwarts has far more to offer."

"Such as yourself?" asks Fudge. "You seem rather keen on having your protégé back within arm's reach, Dumbledore. No doubt to continue your grand scheming against the Ministry, correct?"

"Incorrect, as Mr. Potter's Headmaster—"

"Ex-Headmaster," says Umbridge.

" _Headmaster,_ " insists Dumbledore. "He will always be a child and student under my care regardless of being expelled. As Mr. Potter's Headmaster, I am rightfully concerned over his academic progress. How would you like to have been kicked out of school, Cornelius?"

"I've never murdered anyone in my life, Dumbledore. Prove to us that Potter didn't use the Killing Curse, and then we might reconsider his attendance at Hogwarts."

"You have certainly never found yourself in the scenario faced by Mr. Potter last year, have you?" asks Dumbledore.

"A most hypothetical, falsely hallucinated scenario created to cover up the truth," says a smiling Umbridge. "It would seem that Potter's overwhelming guilt at murdering another student has forced a defensive reaction from his mind. What began as a silly lie has taken root and become a delusion of the utmost concern."

Sighing loudly, Harry finally looks up in his seat, and straight at Fudge. "I would like to make a deal with you, Minister."

Dumbledore glances at Harry as the latter speaks.

"How about this, in the event of Voldemort"—Harry rolls his eyes at the various responses to the name—"proven to be back, you and Madam Umbridge will recompense me with no less than ten thousand Galleons."

"The boy is truly deranged!" shouts Umbridge triumphantly, but Fudge shifts awkwardly in his seat.

"Something wrong, Cornelius?" asks a smiling Dumbledore. "Surely, given your  _certainty_  regarding Lord Voldemort being long deceased, this deal would be nothing to you."

"Your tricks will not work on us, Potter," says Umbridge, who spots various keen expressions shown across the Wizengamot now. "He is not back! Mr. Potter has condemned himself to nothing but ignorance now. I refuse to partake in this deal."

"Then I suppose this will be between myself and your  _superior_ , Senior Undersecretary."

Dumbledore walks right up to Fudge while speaking quite sternly. "Deep down, you know that Lord Voldemort has returned, don't you? Why the hesitation, Cornelius? Everyone is awaiting your response."

"I don't cut deals with criminals nor underage wizards," declares Fudge. "This is mainly a ploy to play with our judgement."

"And yet you still hesitate to accept my offer, Minister," says Harry. "Fine, reject our deal then. But I think everyone can see that it's made you suspiciously nervous. Perhaps Voldemort really is back?"

"Enough lies," says Umbridge, "This debate has gone on long enough, over an hour, actually. The boy is clearly too unhinged to be allowed anywhere near Hogwarts. By keeping him with a wand in the Muggle world, we are better able to keep watch via the Trace."

Dumbledore politely raises his voice. "I think it's quite clear that Mr. Potter is being goaded into committing an offence. If he is no longer allowed to be at school then why bother reinstating his wand-bearing ownership? Surely the Ministry cannot hope to risk the Statute of Secrecy on one so-called 'deranged' young man? Also note that the Trace works outside of Hogwarts regardless of Mr. Potter carrying a wand."

Fudge leans forward in his seat, glaring at Harry and Dumbledore. "I know how our Ministry resources work, Dumbledore, no need for explanations."

"I believe everyone here is beginning to find these trials wearisome and a waste of productivity..." More talking and arguing ensues between Dumbledore and Fudge as the debate drags on and on... Eventually, after hearing for the fifth time that Harry's unfit for school, Dumbledore addresses the entire Wizengamot. "This debate is going around in endless circles, perhaps a vote is in order?"

Fudge looks straight at Harry, "Since we're in the mood for making deals, here's mine: If you can present us with  _definite_  proof of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return, then you'll be allowed back at school. Under no other circumstances shall your expulsion be revoked."

"Deal," says Harry, "And in that case I want my ten thousand Galleons in recompense for this terribly boring waste of a year so far. This is my O.W.L. year you're ruining!"

"Yes, yes," Fudge appears rather smug now. "Trying to play the Wizengamot to your advantage with confidence, Mr. Potter? Two can play at that game. Go ahead and waste your time trying to prove your false assertions with Dumbledore. I'll even allow you to attend school for the rest of today." He laughs quite smugly with his supporters in the crowd (including Percy Weasley).

"You and your ignorant supporters are ruining everything, Minister," says Harry.

"You're the one who made the decision to use the Killing Curse which is 'ruining everything', Mr. Potter," retorts Umbridge.

"For which the negotiated sentence was three months and losing his wand," says Dumbledore. "Sentence was served, wand rights have been restored... We are merely repeating ourselves now. If there is nothing of note to be added then we'll be taking our leave."

"Jolly good day to you both," says an annoyingly 'polite' Fudge. "I shall be anticipating whatever coup you two might be planning today."

Umbridge smiles. "Do not worry, I will be on hand to continue my duties in restoring order to the school. As a matter of fact, there is one Professor whose time is up. The Order of Dismissal, Minister?"

"Countersigned and ready to administer, Dolores," replies Fudge.

With the debate ended, Harry leaps from his seat to exit the Ministry of Magic alongside Dumbledore. This time, he side-along Apparates from the Ministry Atrium to Hogsmeade village.

"Hagrid or Sybill," mutters Dumbledore, walking beside Harry towards Hogwarts' front gates. "Professor Umbridge is going to sack one of them today. Fortunately, I have stand-ins for either, in such an event."

"Professor, about the Minister's deal..."

"Now he's goading you into doing something rash in order to prove your point. He reckons you're that desperate to return to school, which is understandable. But I must urge you not to do anything of the sort, Voldemort is still out there and waiting."

"I just wish someone could tell me exactly what it is that Voldemort wants to retrieve from the Department of Mysteries," says Harry, now trudging through thin layers of snow up the slopes.

"The risk of you rushing off to find it is too great, Harry." Dumbledore looks to the far right as the Quidditch stadium remains surprisingly quite. "I take it the match has concluded?"

"Sure sounds like it, sir," Harry follows Dumbledore towards the outskirts of the forbidden forest. Here, the Headmaster exchanges a few words with Firenze, a centaur who Harry barely remembers from years back.

"Harry Potter," says the centaur, "It was foretold that we would meet again. It seems we are both banished from our herds."

Harry's confused expression causes Dumbledore to explain the meaning of Firenze's words. For the centaur, he's been exiled for taking up a job at Hogwarts, and Harry's essentially 'banished' from attending school.

"Yeah, that makes sense," says Harry, as the trio of himself, Dumbledore, and Firenze walk towards Hagrid's cabin. "But I've got a chance at going back, do you?"

Firenze shakes his head, and the group soon comes across a most surprised Hagrid working outside his cabin.

"Hi, Hagrid, just thought I'd pop in for today."

"Harry?" Hagrid drops his bucket of water onto his garden before running towards the group.

 _Don't break me_! pleads Harry in his mind before being grabbed (and lifted off the ground) into a big hug.

"Grown about an inch, haven' yeh?" Hagrid's tearful smile falters as he sets Harry on the ground and sees his face. "Tha' ruddy no good Minister, and Umbridge too! But Professor Dumbledore has assured me tha' you will be comin' back at some point. That's why I never lose hope, yeh see? Never lose hope!" Hagrid seems to have forgotten his chores as he soon offers Harry something to eat.

"That would be lovely," says Harry, wondering if Dumbledore could discreetly charm the food to be more edible.

"May I come in as well?" asks Dumbledore, to which Hagrid welcomes them all in. They spend the next hour in the cabin discussing all manner of things including Azkaban, Umbridge, Divination, etc. Hagrid, it seems, remains fully unaware of Harry's usual presence in the school. Therefore, Harry listens to his retelling of the failed mission to recruit the giants, which Hermione's already explained.

"Macnair, eh?" asks Harry, seated beside Dumbledore at the wooden table. "Yes, I remember him from when we saved Buckbeak, and from my trip to the graveyard. Voldemort promised that he'll 'provide' for Macnair to continue his exterminating ways."

"I do hope he does not include my kind in that promise," says Firenze. "My people are already infuriated by everything that's happening these days. We're getting pushed back, you see."

"Knowing Voldemort," says Dumbledore, "I reckon he was referring to Muggleborns and Muggles in that regard."

"He's a bloomin' monster, that's what! And not the 'good' kind that I like. You-Know-Who is summat totally different. A madman, evil ter the core, a class of his own, he is."

Minutes later sees a House-Elf suddenly Apparating to deliver a message to Dumbledore. The latter now thanks the elf before standing up as the trio of Harry, himself, and Firenze take their leave. With merely a couple of hours to go until sunset, Dumbledore leads the way up the castle slopes.

"A fine time for Professor Umbridge to gain notoriety," he says while sighing. "Ready to make a brief appearance before the rest of your school, Harry?"

"Former school—"

"No, Hogwarts is and always will be your school," says Dumbledore firmly. "I didn't want to say this back at the cabin but there are a lot of people who see themselves in you."

Firenze walks behind the duo as Harry looks quizzically at Dumbledore. "Hagrid was expelled too, sir, I know. Because of Voldemort, who I'll do anything to stop one day. Don't care what it takes to exterminate that disgrace of a Slytherin."

"It's not only Hagrid that sees a bit of himself in you," says Dumbledore, "However, I cannot tell you of the other person. All you should know is that they see a boy that's made better choices than themselves."

"Tom Riddle, perhaps?"

"Oh no, certainly not," says an almost amused Dumbledore. "Tom's arrogance exceeds any hope of him regretting his decisions. Ah, here we are, the entrance courtyard. Poor Sybill, she doesn't deserve any of this."

As they climb the slopes to approach the courtyard, Harry spots dozens of students gathered along the cloister. Some appear shocked, a few display grief, though others appear relieved, if not smug. By the time Dumbledore walks through the cloister (where many students swiftly scuttle aside), McGonagall stands comforting Trelawney in the centre of the courtyard. Harry, however, remains on the top of the slopes outside as Umbridge speaks.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore!" she grins while holding a rolled up parchment in hand. "As I've mentioned to the Minister after our earlier debate, here's Sybill Trelawney's countersigned Order of Dismissal. Where is Mr. Potter? Not hiding him away, are you? Do remember that the Minister has granted your young plotter today, and only today, access to the school."

The rush of whispers spreading across the crowd brings a smile to Harry who now steps through the cloister. Those unfamiliar to him express much shock and fear, given the newspapers ongoing smear campaign, while familiar faces gawk at him. The D.A. members, who've already seen him in person, appear unfazed; but it's Harry's Slytherin classmates who stare the most. The girls, notably Pansy, appear shocked to see him in person.

"Judging by these trunks,  _Professor_ Umbridge, I take it you're trying to evict Professor Trelawney?" Harry stands beside Dumbledore as the crowd looks on.

"Former Professor it is, Mr. Potter," Umbridge remains smug while waving the roll of parchment in her hand. "But I wouldn't bother myself with the affairs of Hogwarts if I were you."

"I may be expelled, but even I know that you can't send teachers away from this castle."

"Oh really? You ought to watch your tone with a Ministry official in my position, Mr. Potter."

Harry looks around at the various students before scoffing at Umbridge. "I'm not afraid of you,  _Madam_. But since you enjoy your rules, well, Professor Dumbledore can explain..."

"You have the right to dismiss my teachers," says Dumbledore. "You do not, however, have the authority to banish them from the grounds. That power remains with the Headmaster."

"For now," says a smiling Umbridge, causing Harry to stand in front of his Headmaster.

"Nobody disrespects Professor Dumbledore, not even you, Senior Undersecretary."

Umbridge still remains smiling as Harry glares at her, then she appears even more amused as backup arrives.

"Well, look who it is, gentlemen," says Malfoy, briefly looking at Nott and the other fifth-year boys. "We have a dangerous lunatic raving about at our prestigious teacher."

"Yeah, Potter looks like rubbish these days," adds Nott, pointing and laughing towards an unamused Harry. "Oh no, he might kill us!"

"Your dad's gonna get himself killed, Nott," says Harry, "Grovelling at Voldemort's dirty long toenails." He finds the reactions to Voldemort's name rather amusing, though Nott doesn't.

"Get out of this school, Potter, you don't belong here anymore," Nott looks from Harry to Umbridge. "Professor! The Ministry cannot allow such a dangerous individual to be here. One day or not, he's most likely going to scheme with Dumbledore."

"All the more reason to let our justice run its course, Mr. Nott."

"You have no idea what's happening in this school, do you, Potter?" asks Zabini. "Order is being restored to the wackiness and chaos we've had to endure all these years. Madam Umbridge and the Ministry knows what's best."

"Spoken like a true brown-noser," says Harry.

"You're the brown-noser, Potter," scoffs Malfoy, "Forever sucking up to the Headmaster."

"At least I respect someone who deserves it, unlike"—Harry can't help but laugh—"your  _Professor_  Umbridge over there."

Nott looks Harry up and down with an expression of dislike. "Why are you so happy, Potter? Hasn't your life reached a new low? You're missing out on O.W.L. year, dimwit. Ain't gonna be any future in the wizarding world for you, Muggle."

"What exactly am I missing out this year?" asks Harry, who mimics reading a checklist. "Transfiguration: competent and masterful teacher, Divination: a good teacher, Potions: a natural, Astronomy: excellent. Charms: an expert in his field, Herbology: thoroughly capable and knows what she's doing, Care of Magical Creatures—"

"A stupid oaf," mutters Nott, loud enough for many to hear.

"No, a 'stupid oaf' would be you and your dad combining your intelligence," Harry flashes his brows tauntingly as Nott reaches for the latter's wand. "Hagrid's good, and so is Grubbly-Plank. Then there's History of Magic: informative, Flying Lessons: brilliant teacher, although it stops after first or in second year—"

"What about Arithmancy, huh?"

"I don't do that, Nott."

"Yeah, because you're too stupid. At least now you're doing  _Muggle Studies_  for life!" Nott looks around and receives cackling laughter from the anti-Potter group. Harry, meanwhile, merely smiles and pretends to be in serious thought.

"I believe you might've missed one, Harry," says Dumbledore, grinning while darting his gaze at Umbridge.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Headmaster."

"Hem, hem..."

Harry begins pacing in the centre of the courtyard. "Excuse me, Madam, I'm in the middle of some thought here. Well, I don't do Study of Ancient Runes nor Muggle Studies nor Arithmancy so I can't comment. What else did I skip? I know there's some extra-curricular activities such as Art, Ghoul Studies, Music Classes, Muggle Art, the Frog Choir—"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, you dolt!" shouts Malfoy. "God, he's so damn  _stupid._ "

"Oh, so it  _is_  being taught this year?" asks Harry, now looking around at his many supporters. "I thought it was just a book reading club?"

Even Professor McGonagall smiles at the remark while many students snigger and laugh at Harry's comment. Looking around, he locks eyes with a furiously giggling Hermione who stands near a corner of the cloister.

"Mr. Potter, I will not tolerate such delinquent remarks," says Umbridge. "Please leave the school immediately."

"Harry will remain here on my authority," says Dumbledore, "Let's not forget about the Minister having granted him a brief visit, shall we?"

"Of course," replies a still smiling Umbridge. "But, as he's expelled, Mr. Potter is hereby forbidden from making any attempts at academic progress. The Library, specifically, is off-limits to him by the Ministry's authority."

Harry scoffs at the order. "Oh please, I haven't even used my wand properly but I bet I can beat any student in a duel. After all, your Ministry-approved curriculum is most likely useless out there against Vold—"

"No more lies!" Umbridge gestures for Malfoy and the boys to keep an eye on Harry. "Oh, allow me to add that the Minister has forbidden you from holding any private discussions with Dumbledore in his office. So no planning and plotting for you, Potter."

"Harry Plotting Potter," jeers Nott.

"No, it's Harry Plotter," adds Malfoy.

"Well then," Harry turns to look at Dumbledore, "I shall not burden you with my presence today, sir."

"Your presence is of no burden to me, Harry," Dumbledore smiles, a genuine gesture in stark contrast to Umbridge's one. "It is only a matter of time before the truth is revealed."

"We're keeping an eye on you for today, Plotter," says Zabini, "Ain't nothing you can do to shake us five off. Deal with it, loser."

With Trelawney now being escorted inside by McGonagall, Dumbledore reveals the replacement Divination teacher: Firenze. More than a few students, and Umbridge, appear shocked to have a centaur walking about so freely. Meanwhile, Harry shoots a warning look at Pansy and the girls, who nod in understanding.

"Haha, look there," says Nott, "Looks like Parkinson's walking away. Nope, she ain't coming to talk to you, Plotter. None of them are."

"A very good day to you all," greets Dumbledore to the students. "I hope everyone's getting along well with their studies and enjoying the weekend."

"There goes your boss, Plotter," mutters Malfoy. "Not so tough now, are you? Nobody to hold your hand and for you to hide behind."

"Oh please, I never hid behind anyone when I..." Harry looks around to see Umbridge also having left the courtyard. "...fought Lord Voldemort! Yeah, I fought Voldemort!" He now puts on a sing-song voice while prancing around the courtyard. "I fought Voldemort! I fought Voldemort! He's coming to get me? Get me! He's trying to get me—"

"Shut up!" Nott draws his wand, but not before Harry takes aim with his disguised wand. Its bone hook and handle design covered up by a black grip.

"You've got a wand!?" asks Zabini, while dozens of students remain watching.

"Don't you read the papers? Don't you listen when people speak?" Harry dares them to attack. "Expelled or not, I'm on school property so underage magic is allowed for those with wands. Come on, I dare you losers."

"I say we get him," mutters Crabbe, speaking for probably the first time this afternoon.

"Can we hurt him, Draco?" asks Goyle dumbly.

"Leave him alone!" Hermione rushes to Harry's defence with her wand at the ready. "I said: leave him alone, you bullies, before I hurt  _you_."

"Oh great, a Mudblood's reunion with her murdering lunatic," jeers Malfoy. "Let's watch from a distance before they get too close, disgusting."

"Enjoy your convict boyfriend, Granger," sneers Nott. "He's even uglier now that he's outta prison. Should've stayed and died when the Death Eaters broke out."

"Would you like to get hexed?" asks Hermione, smiling as she holds her wand higher. "I will gladly defend my Harry, especially against the likes of you."

"That's my girl," says Harry, "Wow, you look even prettier since I last saw you. Last year, that is."

"And you still look beautiful to me since I last saw you, Harry. Last year, that is."

"Screw this!" Nott backs off while Harry wraps his arms around Hermione . "He's kissing that dirty thing on the lips, ugh. Slytherins, get away from this traitor."

For just over half of Slytherin House, the exact opposite happens as they swarm around Harry. Familiar faces, including his former Quidditch teammates and Flint's sister, grab him into hugs or handshakes.

"What a waste of my last year," says Miles Bletchley. "No way I'm playing for this new team, they've got Firebolts, Harry. All friggen Firebolts, I swear!"

Feigning utter surprise, Harry now turns to look at the guffawing group of current Slytherin players. Nott, Vaisey, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Montague stand in a corner of the entrance courtyard. Their expressions truly smug while openly laughing at Harry and the ex-players.

"Was it you who bought Chang and most of Team Gryffindor new Nimbus brooms?" asks Adrian Pucey.

"Well, I've been hearing about what's happening around here," says Harry, "and it's complete rubbish what Nott's idiots are doing."

"I knew it was you," says Irma Flint, still sporting her usual pigtails. "Who else would help Gryffindor? Where their Muggleborn girlfriend happens to be."

"Deep down, I'm hoping for Slytherin to actually lose the Cups this year," says Cassius Warrington. "I'm a Pureblood, sure, but Malfoy and Nott are taking it to new, despicable extremes. Not every one of us goes around saying 'Mudblood' and all that superior rubbish."

The key question on everyone's mind is soon answered as Harry tries to convince them of Voldemort's return. Their sceptical expressions are forgiven by him, though, since Harry understands the widespread fear on this topic.

"Thanks for not insulting me, I guess."

"We want you back, Harry," says Yasmin, "as soon as possible. Oh, and I'm Head Girl, by the way. See my badge!"

"Really? Oh wow! A Slytherin at the top, congratulations, Yasmin!" Harry shakes her hand before giving her a hug. The gesture returned just as tightly before he whispers: "All this pretend surprise is so awkward."

"Just roll with it," whispers Yasmin in return, before releasing Harry. "Where are our first years? Don't they wish to meet  _the_ Harry Potter?"

Malfoy's group laughs while leading a terrified dozen youngsters away. Bletchley immediately shakes his head at this.

"There's your answer."

"I'm gonna get them back for this, just you watch," says Harry, who heads into the castle as the rest of his day is spent surrounded by supporters. It hurts to see the struggle endured by Pansy as she works to distance herself and the girls from him.

As evening nears and darkness falls upon the grounds, Harry's publicly escorted out the school by Kingsley. The scenario draws a similar crowd to Trelawney's eviction from earlier, but this time more students jeer and laugh. Harry, however, hides his smile as he knows Kingsley's secretly on Dumbledore's side. The duo now reach Hogsmeade where they side-along Apparate to Privet Drive.

"Right, that triggers the Trace on you," says Kingsley. "Now Madam Hopkirk can see that I've returned you here. But let's head to Sirius, shall we?"

"Won't they pick up the Trace again?"

"The Ministry isn't  _that_  watchful, and if they are, well, I can explain it as Disapparating near you. Don't worry, once we get into London there are plenty of hidden magical folk living there." After checking around for watchful Muggles, Kingsley takes Harry to Grimmauld Place before heading their separate ways.

The following Sunday is spent at Grimmauld as yesterday's brief visit sparks many conversations across Hogwarts. On Monday morning, Harry returns to the school via side-along Apparition. He swaps out certain classes with Ron while balancing it with the latter's need to attend as well. By evening, Harry then sneaks off to the dungeons for another weekly session of Occlumency.

Everything appears to be progressing fairly decently until Tuesday night where Harry finds himself in a sudden vision. To his surprise, the dream comes through via none other than Lord Voldemort's eyes as the latter interrogates Rookwood for whatever is sought in the Department of Mysteries. Confused and equally anxious, Harry soon awakes in his bedroom within the Room of Requirement.

"You were thrashing around in your sleep," says Hermione, studying beside him. "I thought you're blocking out these visions of yours?"

"Professor Snape says I'm progressing fairly fine, and I'm certainly putting up a fight in those lessons. But this is different... Voldemort's visions come in so easily, too easily..."

"Has anyone gotten attacked this time?" asks Hermione. "I hope we're not too late to save them."

"No, not unless you care about some Death Eater called Avery. Because he's getting tortured for giving incorrect advice to Voldemort," Harry sits up and takes a deep breath, his forehead drenched in sweat. "Looks like Augustus Rookwood, former Unspeakable, is putting Voldemort on the right track. Boderick Bode had indeed lost his mind from trying to get something from the Department of Mysteries. Now if I just knew what that  _something_  happens to have been. What is everyone going nuts over?"

Hermione shuts her book and places it beside her on the bed. "You know I'd tell you if I knew."

"Let's put the pieces together: It's in the Department of Mysteries, it's highly sought after by Voldemort, Bode knew he couldn't remove 'it' and therefore fought so hard to shake of the Imperius Curse... which Lucius Malfoy had placed on him."

"I knew that despicable man couldn't be trusted!" says Hermione. "Like father, like son, they're all the same in the end."

"So, it's something only certain people can remove. 'Remove' meaning that it's probably something mobile, something able to be held. So, if it is a weapon, it wouldn't be too big. Hmm... Voldemort said they're going to 'begin again', since his previous attempts have been fruitless."

"And we can probably assume that his plans will be far more effective under the guidance of a former Unspeakable," says Hermione. "What better source of information on the Department of Mysteries than an ex-worker of that very place? Oh, Harry!" Hermione gives him a truly apologetic look. "If things weren't as hectic as they are now, I'd definitely take some time to search the library for you."

"Information like this seems likely to be in the Restricted Section," Harry sighs while looking at Hermione. "It'd take me too long to search that entire place, not to mention the danger of revealing myself. We're all so caught up in O.W.L. studies that there's just no time for library adventures."

"Yes, and you can't ask anyone beyond Ron and I, since we can't risk revealing your visions from Voldemort."

"From  _within_  Voldemort," says Harry, "I was Voldemort in the vision. I was speaking, and looking in the mirror made me see the Dark Lord."

"What?" Hermione gasps while staring at Harry. "I don't understand how that can be? Is this some form of ultra-advanced Legilimency or something?"

Harry forgoes stressing himself over such an impossible question and merely shrugs. "I dunno, no point in getting all worked up over that now."

"How can you be so calm when you're seeing things through the eyes of Voldemort himself, Harry?"

"Doesn't matter, I'll murder him someday anyway. So, the current story is building up rather nicely," Harry grins at the wide-eyed Hermione laying on her side, facing him. "You're delicious when you lay like that... uh, what was I saying? Oh yeah, if we think about it, Sturgis Podmore was the first attempt of Lucius Malfoy using the Imperius to secure whatever's inside the Department of Mysteries. I think we went over this already: Podmore, Nagini, Bode. So, what's next?"

"We should inform Professor Dumbledore of this latest development."

"I wanna sleep, you can take my Hand of Glory and Invisibility Cloak to go to Dumbledore," Harry picks up a hairband then ties Hermione's hair into a ponytail. "When they said the Hand of Glory is the 'best friend of thieves and plunderers', they weren't kidding. I just figured out the other night that any candle in the Hand's grip doesn't set fire to its surroundings. Magic, huh? Plus, it shines its light through the Cloak for its holder to see their surroundings better than a  _Lumos_... absolutely brilliant!"

"What's the password to Professor Dumbledore's office?"

" _Wizochoc,"_ says a yawning Harry. "And tell Professor Dumbledore that I truly am giving it my all in Occlumency. It's just that these visions slip through... like sand through a sieve, I suppose."

"Superb analogy, if I might say so myself," Hermione places a goodnight kiss on his forehead before setting off for the Headmaster's office. Once she's gone, Harry begins planning for the next few D.A. meetings.

For this Thursday evening, he opts to start earlier than he'd planned on Patronuses which would carry on for 5-6 sessions. Then, around the beginning of April, he hopes to revise all their offensive and defensive capabilities before moving on to non-verbal casting. Harry knows he's no absolute expert on the subject, and would therefore enlist the assistance of many older D.A. members. Since there's little else to do but dwell on this evening's vision, he tucks himself in for some much-needed rest.

"Harry, wake up! Weren't you planning on attending Transfiguration today?"

Wednesday morning sees Harry up well after breakfast as Hermione practically yanks him out of bed.

"It's half past ten already and Ron's waiting to swap with you!" She appears torn between amusement and concern. "Breakfast's waiting for you as well in the practice area. Come on, up, up. Move your firm arse, young man!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Harry hurriedly prepares himself for another busy Wednesday morning in O.W.L. year.


	21. Beauty and the Sneak

Thursday's D.A. meeting has arrived, and every student gathered in the Room of Requirement stands eagerly anticipating tonight's session. But Harry's roll call reveals a mysterious absence. "Marietta Edgecombe?" he calls, looking over the crowd of thirty seated students. "Where is she? We've never been short of our full crew, which is now 32 after Seamus, Fay, and Eloise joined..."

Cedric, seated near a corner of the room, turns to look at an equally bemused Cho who responds. "She said she was on her way earlier, all of our coins showed tonight's meeting starting at six, correct?"

Nods and murmurs of agreement fill the room before Padma speaks up. "Six till half-past eight, that's tonight's session as we're all aware. I could've sworn Edgecombe was having dinner at our table."

More Ravenclaws consult one another with regards to their Housemate's whereabouts. Anthony, Padma, Luna, Terry, and Cho all chat fervently as the rest of the room sit in silence.

"Something doesn't feel right tonight," says Yasmin, sitting along the left wall between Fred and George Weasley. "I'm not gonna throw accusations but I've just got this hunch."

"Slytherin instincts?" asks Fred, eliciting a roll of the eyes by the Head Girl.

"There's no such thing, duh. But I have noticed Miss Edgecombe being less than enthusiastic for Harry's sessions."

"So, she maybe skived off? The nerve of her!" says Ron, while Dean and Seamus also voice their disapproval of Marietta's absence. "No offense to any Ravenclaws here but Edgecombe gives off this vibe that she thinks she's too good for Harry's lessons."

"We agree," says Colin Creevey, on behalf of himself and his younger sibling. "I don't understand why anybody would run away from getting such awesome lessons like these every week."

Zacharias Smith now speaks up as he sits with a few Hufflepuffs. "There has been a noticeable amount of childish humour and flirtation, particularly between Potter and Granger, going on in these meetings. I can't blame Edgecombe for skiving off if that's true."

"Oh, shut up," mutters George, "Can't you see we're all trying to stay in smiles for tonight's long awaited meeting?"

More D.A. members express their curiosity and concerns over Edgecombe, including Susan Bones. "Perhaps she's run into a bit of a delay? Could be anything, really."

"If she's betrayed us..." warns Hermione, "She'd better have a good reason for being late. We're already ten minutes into our session."

"She's not committed," says Ginny, "I honestly don't think she gives a rat's arse about these sessions."

Fay Dunbar groans while looking around. "We're all assuming the worst, but what if she is just genuinely late? I hope nothing bad's about to happen. I mean, we three only just recently joined!"

Harry now calls aside the twins, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione for a meeting in the bedroom. "All of you know about my Map, so let's have a look and see where Marietta's at..." They gather around as the Marauder's Map reveals Marietta walking beside Umbridge on the second floor corridor.

"That bitch!" shouts Hermione, startling everyone in the bedroom. "Well, well, well, I'd love to see what her traitorous face looks like now. Hehehe..."

"Oh darn..." Harry's knees feel rather weak. Not from the apparent betrayal but rather from Hermione's wicked side.

"Now's not the time to be drooling over Granger, Harry," says an alarmed Fred, "We have to warn the others."

"We can't," says George. "Nobody but us in this bedroom knows about the Map. If we bail out the room now, forewarned, it'll be obvious we knew they were coming."

Ginny nods in agreement while shifting her gaze to Harry. "If they catch him here, though, the Ministry and Umbridge will go absolutely mental. Can't we all silently sneak out to other places? The library or owlery, for instance."

Shaking his head, Ron appears truly concerned. "Edgecombe might've said exactly what's happening in here now, and Umbridge will be expecting to catch us off-guard. An empty Room of Requirement will definitely seem suspicious, right?"

"I have someone on the inside of Umbridge's little gang," says Harry. "If we're all gone by the time they come, my spy will come under scrutiny."

"But we have to do something!" says Hermione. "I vote in favour of erasing Harry's name from the sign-up list."

"And then the others will be punished while I get off scot-free," Harry groans and balls his fist. "What a coward they'll see me as. Pathetic, really."

"Put your pride in your pocket," says Ginny, "For us it's probably just detention and House Points. But for you it's... I don't even want to think about it."

Before Harry can respond, he spots Marietta lingering in Umbridge's office while the Inquisitorial Squad converges on the second floor. Various names now arrive from the dungeons including Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Nott, Zabini, Montague, Vaisey, Dawson Fawley (a burly seventh year boy, according to what Harry remembers), and Hayden Rowle (another seventh year).

"Our biggest threats are those two seventh-years Fawley and Rowle," says Harry, "Forever against me in Slytherin. No doubt they're the capable muscle in the group, as opposed to useless Crabbe and Goyle."

"It's like 31 against 10 now, if they dare attack us," says Fred, "No way they're that stupid, right?"

"No, they're waiting on the second floor. I suspect Marietta must've told them about our sign-up list."

Ginny appears ready to fight. "If they grab that then they'll have all our names! Let's torch it right here, right now."

"Or we let them get the list," says Hermione, "without Harry's name on it. What do you say, Mr. Slytherin?"

"You're the one with the biggest brains of us all here," replies Harry, causing Hermione to give a soft laugh.

"Hermione's plan seems fine," says Ron, "Everyone knows the crazy big risk Harry's taking just to be here—"

Shrieks and yells can be heard coming from the practice area. Since the Room of Requirement does not show on the Marauder's Map, Harry has absolutely no idea what's happening.

"Stay here," orders Hermione, "While the rest of us go check it out."

Ron nods while looking at Harry. "Yeah, you're the king in this game of chess, mate."

All but Harry exit the bedroom while the latter keeps track of Umbridge's crew. It appears that they're slowly taking up key positions on various floors. The prospect of an ambush increasing by the second as Harry spots Pansy, Malfoy, and Nott heading up the grand staircase. Now the bedroom door bursts open as none other than Dobby attempts to warn him of Umbridge's imminent arrival. But with many flasks and brewing cauldrons scattered about the bedroom, there's little time to pack up.

"Dobby, please take my trunk first to Sirius' place, then come back as soon as possible, okay?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

Hermione storms into the room as Dobby hurriedly packs various clothing and textbooks into Harry's trunk. "I've warned the others and they're leaving as we speak. Forget letting them get us in here. You won't risk blowing Parkinson's cover because she's been with the Squad since Edgecombe's betrayal. They can't blame Pansy."

Harry looks over Hermione's shoulder to see dozens of students flocking out the room. "The Squad's already taking up position as we speak. Pansy, Nott, and Malfoy are on their way to the seventh floor. So... help me pack up wherever I've stashed my flasks. Damn, I knew I should've kept them in my trunk but noooo I just had to put them in drawers and whatnot."

"Stop arguing with yourself and think!" Hermione sighs while looking around the bedroom. "Take what you can but vanishing will be needed to save time. I don't think Pansy knows you've been warned, so it's gonna be real tough for her to help you out now." She walks over to the filled cauldrons before vanishing them (and their scent) entirely. "I'm sorry! But priority is getting your pretty arse out of sight before the others find you."

"All my brewing just... gone," Harry gasps while gathering as many filled flasks as possible. About four doses are withdrawn from the drawers while his trunk contains enough ingredients for approximately one more cauldron's worth of Polyjuice.

"You're far more valuable than any potion, Harry," says Hermione, doing her best to salvage any more of Harry's stored flasks. She now withdraws two more, making it half a dozen laying on Harry's bed before Hermione requests his assistance. "There's no time for dawdling! We need to vanish all these drawers and dressers even with your other flasks still in them. If Umbridge gets even the  _slightest_  proof of Polyjuice in here..."

"There's nothing but flasks stashed in them, nothing important. Okay,  _Evanesco_!"

_"Evanesco!"_

Every bit of furniture is soon vanished before Dobby returns to collect some flasks. Then, Harry checks the Map to see Malfoy and Nott racing across the seventh floor trying to catch any stragglers while Pansy's name disappears. Seconds later, after Harry shoves the concealed Map into his back pocket, the bedroom door opens to a gasp.

"Harry..."

He spins around to face one of his dearest friends.

"Pansy, I'm sorry I haven't been speaking to yo—"

"Forget about it," Pansy spots Dobby trying to gather up some flasks before she smiles. "So that's how you've been getting in and out of the castle. House Elf Apparition, clever. But not clever enough if you don't get your arse out of here right now! Save the sappy reunion for later, Umbridge and the rest are on their way. They've already rounded up the Weasleys and Patils."

Dobby Disapparates before returning to retrieve any leftover flasks. This leaves the circular stone room with just an emerald four-poster bed in it while Pansy looks at Hermione.

"They're out for you, Granger, and Umbridge isn't playing games."

"She can try, I'm not in the least afraid," scoffs Hermione.

"Yeah? Well you'd better hope she doesn't scar that pretty face of yours too. Speaking of which, something odd happened to Edgecombe when she snitched on you lot."

"Let me guess, S—N—E—A—K across her face? That'll be  _my_  little present for her," says Hermione. "But as for you..."

Pansy pulls an odd expression upon being kissed on the cheek by Hermione. "What the he—"

"That's for helping us. Now, I'll take the fall for Harry while he gets his nice arse out of here."

"Why's it always my arse being discussed—"

"Shut up!" Pansy and Hermione both grab him by the scruff of his neck.

"Ow! Wait, hold on!" He stops the girls from shoving him towards the awaiting Dobby. "I've got a better idea! Dobby, fetch my Invisibility Cloak from my trunk and bring one Polyjuice flask please. Pansy, let me be you so I can see exactly what 's gonna happen now."

Dobby Disapparates once more while Hermione gawks at Harry.

"Are you nuts? There's no time for fancy plans right now. I'm not losing you to Azkaban again... So get the _hell_ out of here right this instant, Harry James Potter!"

"I think that's a brilliant idea," says Pansy, "Oh, what the hell. We've got ten minutes until Malfoy and Nott storm this room. For you, Harry, I can strip in far less than that. And you can watch, snuggle Muggle wuggle."

Hermione's eyes widen as Pansy shuts the door before swiftly stripping down her clothes. Harry follows suit until they're both stark naked in the room.

"OH MY GOD!" gasps Hermione, who's probably never seen either of them like this before.

"Meh, it's nothing I haven't seen before. You'll probably be getting with that broomstick in the future, mm-hmm," says Pansy, to which Harry laughs. Then a popping sound announces the return of Dobby who gifts them the Cloak and a flask before returning to the kitchens. As instructed, the Elf is forbidden from harming himself or revealing his assistance to Harry and the rest.

"Take her hair, Harry," says Hermione, while Pansy places her arms on her sides.

"What? Too scared to come take some on your own, Granger? Don't be shy now, it's clear that Harry can't choose between either of us. See anything you'd like to grab?" Pansy does a twirl before giggling at Harry. "Calm down, boy. Now's not the time to be getting  _excited_." She pulls out a few hairs from her head then adds them to the flask in Harry's hand.

The mixture now turns a shade of burgundy while giving off a sweet scent of cherry which Harry swiftly gulps.

"You taste quite good."

"And not just the potion, my baby Potter."

After vanishing the flask, both girls gape as Harry's body morphs into a girl with lengthy black hair: Pansy Parkinson.

"Seeing that so vividly was just... _wow_ is all I can say," says Hermione.

"Yeah, same here, Granger, same here. I can't believe I just watched Harry lose his stiff willy and turn into me. Polyjuice sure is weird."

"I got these again!" laughs Harry, displaying his chest at an unamused Pansy and a red-faced Hermione. "So perfect, Pansy, so perfect."

"Quit perving out on my body and get dressed already! Actually, turn around quickly... ah, so that's how my arse looks from the back, and my hair too. Not bad, mm-hmm. Nothing wrong with complimenting myself, is there?" Pansy tosses her uniform for Harry to wear, while Hermione battles to control her laughter.

"He's... he's putting on girls' underwear... Hahahaha! Put on your bra, Harry, and your knickers too. Oh my goodness... this is too much... But you do have a, um, nice body, Pansy."

" _Nice_?" Pansy looks at Hermione. "I'm bloody hot, that's what. Bask in my sexiness, Granger, bask in it!"

"Alright, fine, now get dressed in that boy clothing, Pansy." Hermione then startles Harry by grabbing and slapping his arse.

"The hell?"

"Pansy did say I must bask in her sexiness, didn't she? Oh you're so cute as a girl, Harry. Shall we braid your hair? Make ponytails? Slick back?"

Pansy, meanwhile, easily slips on Harry's casual wear. "What? It's not like there's a huge size difference between me and my baby Potter. Oh, I'm so pretty in uniform, aren't I? Say yes, Harry..."

"Yes! Of course you are. No need to threaten me to say it," Harry smiles as he's fussed over by a sighing Pansy now.

"Even when you're me, I still have to look after you. There, nice and tidy. Enjoy walking around in a skirt, girl."

As he's now a near flawless imitation of Pansy, Harry requests her wand while holding out his own. The yew one eliciting a gasp from her.

"Is this your new wand? Where have I seen it before...?"

"Voldemort," says Harry, "Don't ask how, but I got me a wand that's more than just a lookalike of the Dark Lord's. Please, I beg and beseech you not to inform your mum about this."

"I won't, now can we hurry along before Malfoy and Nott barge in here in a few minutes' time?"

Harry walks right up to Pansy who stares her doppelganger in the eye. "This is my best protection against Voldemort, explanations can come later. Right now, he probably thinks I've got some other random wand. Don't tell your mum, in case he reads her mind."

"I said I won't tell," Pansy narrows her eyes, green staring in identical green. "Don't you trust me? I've always been on your side, Harry, even if mom's a Death Eater."

"Don't cry, Pansy."

"Me? Cry? Go get your eyes checked, stranger Granger who's now in danger. Right, lemme get Invisible and then you two can play your act. Although..." She glances worriedly at Hermione. "I can't be sure of how the High Inquisitor Frog is going to treat you now. She hates Muggleborns, truly."

"High Inquisitor Frog?" asks Harry.

"Yeah, she's a toad bitch, that's what. I miss the good ol' folks like Marcus Flint," says Pansy. "When Umbridge snapped your wand, he threw those chocolate frogs at her like a real ninja. Sneaky hidden and all that at our table. Ah... but now we have prats like Malfoy and Nott taking control. I'll be in our favourite empty classroom on the sixth floor, come spend some time with me, Harry."

Minutes after Pansy slips beneath Harry's Cloak, the Room of Requirement's double doors are kicked open. Malfoy and Nott now rush into the bedroom where they stop in their tracks.

"What the hell?" Malfoy looks around. "This looks like... a Slytherin girl's dormitory? Plotter truly is here... find him!"

"Parkinson!" barks Nott. "Good work catching this Mudblood filth but where's Potter? Why's this room look like this?"

"I was tired," says Hermione, before Malfoy aims his wand at her.

"Shut up, Mudblood. Speak only when spoken to. This is a  _Slytherin_  bedroom and not your Gryffindor trash, however that looks."

"I've checked this entire room," says Harry, "Although it could've appeared because I'm getting tired from all this chasing."

"Potter knows what the girls' dormitories look like," says Malfoy, "and this room doesn't really look like us boys' side of the common room, Parkinson. I'm telling you, that dolt is right here somewhere. Let's cast spells all over until we hit something... or someone." He now raises his voice. "Potter! I know you're hiding beneath your Invisibility Cloak in here." Zabini soon enters the room and join in on the casting:

"You can't outrun all these...  _Petrificus Totalus!"_

_"Stupefy_!" Nott orders Harry to block the front doors, which the latter does. Meanwhile, Harry forcibly withholds his amusement as the three boys fire spells everywhere.

_"Everte Statum!"_

_"Depulso!"_

_"Stupefy!"_

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

_"Rictusempra!"_

_"Tarantallegra!"_

_"Glacius!"_

_"Accio Invisibility Cloak!"_

_"Accio Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak!"_

_"Accio Harry Potter and his Invisibility Cloak!"_

_"Flipendo!"_

_"Locomotor Mortis!"_

_"Locomotor Wibbly!_

_"Accio Mudblood-lover Harry Potter!"_

Sighing, Harry realises that if Pansy had not been on his side then one of these spells would've surely hit him. This is especially true as Harry now remains stationed at the room's exit while more spells are fired across the bedroom and practice area. Five minutes later, he grabs Hermione by the shoulder as the group make their way towards the second floor corridor, soon reaching the gargoyle one.

Nott, walking beside Harry, holds the D.A. sign-up list as they walk past a few captured D.A. members lined in the gargoyle corridor. Fred and George are kept gagged by Fawley and Rowle while the Patils are guarded by Crabbe and Goyle. Vaisey holds Ron in place against the wall while Ginny is subdued by Montague.

"Any luck finding Potter?" asks Umbridge, standing at the gargoyle leading to Dumbledore's office. "Our informant has informed us that he was leading the group. If you have any proof, well, the dementors will be happy to accommodate Potter... for life."

"NO!" screams Ginny, before Montague silences her with a spell.

"We've found this list, ma'am," says Nott, "but there's no mention of Potter. However, look whose name is here, and right on top." He hands over the parchment to Umbridge, the latter's expression now turning to malicious glee.

"Well, well, well, the Minister will be absolutely delighted to see this! Well done all, 10 points to Slytherin to each of you here today. So that's 100 for the ten of you. A job well done in bringing Ministry-approved order. What is this...?" Umbridge looks up from the parchment, her expression conveying surprise. "It seems we will be in need of a new Head Boy and,  _especially_ , a new Head Girl. How dare Ms. Shafiq join such an illegal organisation right under our noses. The traitor!"

"To be fair, Marietta Edgecombe also qualifies as a traitor," says Harry. "There's no denying that."

"She has made the right choice, especially given her mother's position in the Ministry of Magic. Making the right choice does not count as betrayal in our eyes, Miss Parkinson. Now, stay here while the adults sort things out."

While the Inquisitorial Squad guards six captured D.A. students in the gargoyle corridor, Umbridge speaks the password before heading up to Dumbledore's office. A tense few minutes begin as Harry now stands in the centre of the corridor.

"A new age of order and Ministry regulations is about to dawn on this school," says Nott, pacing about and smirking at the restrained D.A. students. "Dumbledork's getting the sack and it's off to jail with him. Meanwhile, we Inquisitorial Squad members will have power beyond the Head Students!"

Hermione, now disarmed and restrained by Malfoy, speaks. "Well it's too bad that Harry truly is innocent today. You went in expecting him to be there? Sorry to disappoint you."

"I know he's in this castle, he's gotta be!" says Zabini, "We'll check each and every damned classroom if we have to! Edgecombe told us straight what was happening in there."

"She's a trait—OUCH!" Hermione's words are cut off as Malfoy kicks her hard against the leg.

"Shut up, Mudblood. We're sick of hearing your voice all the time."

"You've gone quiet, Parkinson," says Nott, "Something wrong?"

"Yeah, why do you look so worried? We've got Fumbledork's terrorist group caught red-handed," says Montague.

"Whatever," Harry struts forward in an impeccable imitation of Pansy before sitting down along the wall. "Stop staring at me, Nott, go find some other Pureblood to try and get with. Same goes for any of you."

"One day you'll wake up and realise that you've gotta marry a respectable Pureblood," says Nott, "It's your choice, but the choices are remarkably few."

"Okay, sure, whatev—" Harry's reply is cut off by a series of loud bangs coming from within Dumbledore's office. Instinctively, Harry draws Pansy's ebony wand and takes aim at the gargoyle.

"What the heck's going on in there? Is the decrepit old man putting up a fight against the Minister and two Aurors? Not to mention Madam Umbridge and Marietta Edgecombe being present against him. Surely he wouldn't hurt a student? Or is Dumbles really that power hungry?" asks Vaisey.

"Maybe he's teamed up with McGonagall for a stand-off," says Malfoy, "Yeah, that old Gryffindor hag seems fiercely loyal to her Headmaster. I say chuck them both to the dementors!"

In a matter of minutes, silence is followed by a scuttle of feet coming down the spiral staircase behind the gargoyle. Now, a dishevelled Umbridge emerges and addresses the packed corridor. "Gone! Just like that! In a flash of fire that conspirator has fled the scene."

Jeers, mockery, and groans of disappointment come from the Inquisitorial Squad members. Then, Fudge, Kingsley, Dawlish, Percy and Marietta all step out into the packed corridor.

"Get Edgecombe off to a hospital bed," says Fudge, "Can't believe she changed her story at the last minute. Anyway, it's no big deal." Fudge's grin has Harry battling to control his emotions as the Minister happily urges Percy to scribble down tonight's events. The older Weasley gives Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron swift looks of disappointment before carrying on beside his group.

"You traitorous students are fortunate that Dumbledore has claimed full responsibility for this army," says Umbridge, after ordering the Squad to release their captives. "Off to bed right now! As of this moment, the Inquisitorial Squad is in full effect. Members, come up to my office for your badges now."

"This is it, this is what real power feels like!" says Malfoy, "Even Crabbe and Goyle are bosses these days. Let's go get our authority, boys."

Nott sneers at Hermione. "Guess what, _Prefect_ Mudblood? We can dock points from you guys too. Cheers, losers."

Harry follows the group as they head for Umbridge's office to receive their badges. With the tiny silver 'I' pinned beneath his Prefect badge, Harry excuses himself out the room. Given the powers granted to Umbridge's new squad, Harry now exploits them to create his own Prefect patrol for tonight. A perfect cover to find Pansy. He soon finds her swinging her legs while seated atop an old desk in an abandoned classroom. The Invisibility Cloak lays neatly folded beside her as she looks at Harry.

"I want a hug."

"With yourself? Isn't that a bit weird?"

Pansy shrugs, seemingly nonchalant with regards to Harry's transformation. "I've always wanted a sibling, might as well settle for a temporary twin."

The statement draws a smile of understanding from Harry as he walks up to his Pansy. Slytherin's 'alpha female', in Harry's opinion. Now he stands before her and wraps his arms around the girl.

"That's a good boy."

"Good girl, you mean."

"Yes, Harry, you're my girl."

They sit in silence on the floor as Harry contemplates tonight's events. The biggest blow being that his hideout has just been compromised. "Now, I dunno what's going to happen. The Room of Requirement was my only safe house in this school. Do you understand why I couldn't tell you about it?"

"Granger's jinx, yeah. I think it still would've punished you for telling me since, technically, I'm on Umbridge's side." Pansy checks her watch and sighs. "How long do you reckon it'll be until your potion wears off?"

"About another three hours, if it's anything like my usual doses. I'll stay right here if you're wanting to see me again."

"Of course I'm wanting to see you again," Pansy tries to keep her voice low but Harry merely laughs. The latter reaching into the back pocket of his trousers which Pansy's wearing. "If you're trying to feel my arse then just ask, silly."

"No, silly." Harry withdraws the Marauder's Map before activating it right in front of a shocked Pansy. Then it takes a good bit of explanation as she stares at him.

"You've been keeping  _this_  a secret from us for so long?"

"I wanted to make it a surprise someday for when we're Prefects... Fat chance of that happening now, for me that is."

Whatever anger Pansy might've felt immediately dissipates at Harry's words. She now lays on his shoulder while scrolling through as much of the school as she can.

"You're like a kid at Christmas with this thing," says a laughing Harry.

"Are you crazy? Who wouldn't be? Look at it, real-time surveillance over this entire school! And it sees through disguises too. This is absolutely nuts! Let's see if anyone's sneaking out for some night fun... Nobody? Aw man, how boring. Is Umbridge making people so scared that they won't even go out for a snog!?"

"Whoa there, calm down little Parkinson."

"I'm soooo telling the other girls about this. How could you keep such a wicked Map hidden from us all these years? Don't you trust us? We're your friends, Harry."

"I said it was supposed to be my big surprise," Harry's expression drops a fair bit as he explains the origins of the Marauder's Map.

"Oh, I see... Daddy's Map, huh? I didn't mean to touch a nerve or anything. You should've just it's very personal, no need to beat yourself up with the past."

"Well, it's not like the present's any better now, is it? Look at my life, all screwed up since last year." Harry lets Pansy hold the Map as they sit together in the dimly lit classroom.

"It's been  _dreadful_  without you around in person, really awfully dreadful. The jokes are boring, the atmosphere is super pretentious, the Quidditch parties are friggen annoying, and they all keep making fun of you—"

"I understand, no need to beat yourself up with the present," replies Harry.

"The present can be changed, but not the past. What are you going to do from here on out? If Umbridge is in control of this school... you don't stand a chance at making things right. The old man was your best ally around."

"You'd better be prepared, Pansy, because I think all hell is gonna break loose around here. Dumbledore's Army was really keen on learning Patronuses, then the betrayal happened before we even started," says Harry, running his fingers through Pansy's hair. "It's so strange seeing you with long hair; a good strange, that is."

"Yes, I really do look pretty, don't I?" Pansy takes to having Harry lay across her lap as she strokes what is essentially her own hair. "Now this is what I call loving yourself, and quite literally so."

"Make the most of tonight, because I think I'll be heading home soon."

"To the Muggles!?"

"I can't tell you where my other home is. Sorry, but that's far too risky," says Harry. "Just keep your cover going here. Do whatever Umbridge expects of you as an Inquisitorial Squad member, okay?"

"Of course, and hopefully you'll be able to come back again. We need you back, Harry, you're our baby boy. Who's gonna look after you in the big bad world out there?"

"I can take care of myself, and there's Sirius Black," says Harry, now stretching his legs out before him. "I've always liked your legs, nice and shapely, mmm."

"Those legs haven't had a good dance in a long time. I want you to come back, and then we'll have a big party to celebrate. Oh, and part of it will involve kicking out all those who made the most fun of you, yep." Pansy grins wickedly at the prospect of getting revenge.

"We can't kick them out the common room, though."

"But we can kick them out the party because they're uninvited!"

A few hours later sees Harry reverting back to his own body, and the pair now swap their clothing again. This is followed by Pansy grabbing him into a kiss that has them falling onto a nearby desk.

"Damn, girl!"

"I told you I've missed you, didn't I?" She grabs him into another kiss before gently pulling back. "Let's see how much you've missed me."

With just a few hours to go until midnight, Harry snogs her numerous times before taking his possessions and seeing Pansy off to the dungeons. Their reunion now comes to an end as Harry returns to the empty classroom on the sixth floor. Although he'd prefer to stay, the risk of being discovered has increased dramatically since Marietta's betrayal. Therefore, Harry summons Dobby to side-along Apparate him to Sirius' Place where he spends the rest of the night.

A few days pass by until the arrival of March. Harry, who's now pacing about the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, tries to think of a plan with Sirius.

"I knew we should've kicked Marietta out the group, I just bloody knew it!"

"Stop kidding yourself, Harry. If you were that certain of a traitor then you'd have acted. Look on the bright side, at least nobody _died_ from your little betraying scenario."

Harry continues pacing up and down the room, passing the family tapestry for the umpteenth time. "What am I supposed to do now, huh? There was hope when Dumbledore was Headmaster. What's the point in me preparing for O.W.L.s when there's that... _thing_ now in control of the school? And my one and only way back seems impossible."

"You need a drink," says Sirius, seated on a couch with wine glass in hand.

"I'm not going to drink. I'm just so damn angry right now."

"But that's exactly why you need a drink."

"But that's exactly why I'm not going to drink."

"Come on, Harry, you're stressing yourself to bits. Fact is, there's absolutely nothing we can do right now," Sirius takes a sip from his glass while watching Harry moving about the room. "Add a black cloak and you'd look like Severus walking around angry, uh, I mean 'normally'. That git is, and was, always angry over everything. Don't end up like him, chill."

"I want to finish this year, Sirius, I need to finish this year. Hermione's counting on me to make the most of things so that we're together for N.E.W.T. classes."

"I'd ask Professor Dumbledore for help, but I have no idea where he is or what he's doing now. Let's wait and see what happens..."

With the Room of Requirement exposed, and Harry's Polyjuice stocks nearly depleted, he only travels to Hogwarts for his lessons with Professor Snape. In this case, he forgoes using his Polyjuice reserves and side-along Apparates directly into the Potions master's office.

"I know this sudden popping outta nowhere around six o'clock is annoying, but there's no other choice, sir," says Harry, after arriving in Snape's office on the second Monday of March. "Even House Elf Apparition comes with a loud  _pop_ , so travelling to classrooms is always risky. At least down here there's hardly anyone in the vicinity."

"Have you been practicing, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry walks through the office to take his seat. Given his improvements thus far, the need to remove his explicit memories is reduced.

_"Legilimens!"_

A rather crazed-looking witch with long, unkempt dark hair sits behind a row of bars before him. Her stare proves unnerving but only for a brief second as Harry battles to compose his mind. While flushing his emotions, he sees Professor Snape coming into view. The Potions master, muttering beneath his breath, grows clearer by the second. Now, Harry attempts to tense up without seeming tense at all as the image of a staring Bellatrix fades away.

"Enough," says Snape, "You have successfully thrust me from your mind, Potter, which is acceptable. Although not as good as the best, that provides a decent framework to build upon. Clearly there's been some progress since—"

_BOOM!_

"What the—?" Snape (and Harry) glances upwards and around as a series of distant explosions can be heard. These are succeeded by screams and cheers as the turmoil begins.

"The heck's going on around here?" asks Harry, "Are they rioting or something?"

"It seems your little army has taken to stirring a rebellion. Sounds like fireworks and spells, yes," Snape stands up from his seat before heading for the door. "Do not leave this office, Potter. Even an Invisibility Cloak would not protect you against a stray firework or spell. I daresay it would be difficult to explain a patch of fire running amok as the Inquisitorial Squad are aware of your Cloak."

And with that, Snape hurries out before slamming the door, leaving Harry alone in the office. Minutes pass by as he eyes the Pensieve most keenly. The hidden thoughts of Snape, whom Harry knows essentially nothing about, lay vulnerably exposed. What could be lurking about in this swirling, silvery substance? Could there be any information on the Department of Mysteries?

Harry paces around Snape's desk while keeping his gaze fixated upon the stone basin. One little wave of his wand... just a little peek might shed some light on his mysterious Head of House. He approaches the Pensieve, hesitant, listening, and pulls out his wand. Then he holds it above the silvery substance, inches away from prodding into them. Seconds from prodding into the mind of the enigma that is Severus Snape.

" _And what if these were mine? What if someone broke into my thoughts and viewed my innermost secrets_?" ponders Harry, before turning around to approach his seat. No sooner does he sit than the office door opens up as Snape strides in.

"Amusing people, aren't they? Setting off crates of fireworks at this time in the entrance hall."

Then, Harry sees Snape shutting the door before an alarmed expression crosses the Professor's face.

"Sir—?"

Snape ignores him while rushing over to the Pensieve where he waves his wand. A tense few seconds pass by before Harry sees a brief look of relief shown by Snape, though it swiftly turns to the Professor's usual stoic expression. "Now then, Potter, let us see how capable you are at shielding your mind through the surrounding chaos.  _Legilimens_!"

As with Moody's sessions last school year, Harry's forced to focus his efforts through a loud racket. Now, it's more on maintaining his emotionless state than keeping up a protective shield charm. Harry, however, spots a great amount of similarity between both sessions which he tries to use in his favour. Memories of training Dumbledore's Army gradually fade to Snape's face while bangs and cheers can be heard in the distance. Then it all stops as Snape darts his eyes to the Marauder's Map nearby.

"Damnit, why now?" He looks around wildly before ushering Harry to a corner of the office. "Under the Cloak now, Potter, and don't you dare give in to temptation! Better this than risk the Headmistress chancing my Pensieve."

Before Harry can respond, Snape tosses the Map at him before carrying the Pensieve from his desk and thrusting it at the squatting Harry. This is followed by the latter looking down at the swirling memories as the Invisibility Cloak is wrapped over him. A knock on the locked door sees Snape opening it before Umbridge enters.

"Professor Snape, you are to clear the dungeons of these illegal disruptions immediately." She turns on her heels before walking off and issuing vague threats to the air. "If I catch whoever's chiefly responsible for such behaviour..."

"Lesson's over, Potter," says Snape, while approaching to yank off the Invisibility Cloak and return the Pensieve to the desk. "There's no telling when she'll be back tonight, and it can be wearisome watching both you and that Map. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir, I do appreciate these lessons." Harry summons Dobby to transport him back to the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. Here, Sirius lays fast asleep on the couch while Lupin and Tonks sit at a nearby desk.

"Who's there—oh, it's our boy!" says Tonks, standing with wand at the ready. "Gave us a right fright there, man."

"Hello, Harry. In case you're wondering, we're just staying over for the night. This is our Headquarters anyway." Lupin glances at Sirius. "Drunk and fast asleep, what's new? So, how'd your Occlumency session go? Ol' Severus torturing your mind even further?"

"It went well, I reckon," says Harry, pulling up a chair to sit beside Tonks at the desk. "I hate being kicked out of school... I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"

"Aw, settle down there, young laddie," Tonks pats the scowling Harry on the back. "Wherever Professor Dumbledore is, I'm sure he hasn't forgotten about getting you back in. It's just a pity that things got miles worse than before. How's Hogwarts doing?"

"It's in a bloody riot, yeah!" Harry beams with a smile. "Someone's set off crates of fireworks, and spells are also flying everywhere. It's completely nuts!"

"And you're missing out on all the action!" says Tonks, covering her gasp. "Uptight, Severus-Snape-in-the-making, Harry Potter is missing his big chance to enjoy a bit of mischief. That is truly a horrendous crime indeed."

"Snape-in-the-making, me? What?"

"Goodness me," says Lupin, feigning utter shock, "That is worse than turning into a werewolf. No potion can alleviate that syndrome, I'm afraid."

They laugh heartily as Harry folds his arms and tilts his head up. "You two are not funny. That's unamusing, yes, sir. Calling me  _uptight_ , hmph!"

"Oh cheer up, young one," says an amused Tonks, "Would the sad little man like to do some defensive practice? We've got a whole evening's worth to throw spells at one another. You're en garde first, schoolboy."

"Lemme wake Sirius up."

"No, leave him," laughs Lupin, "Let him get his sleep for the night."

"He sleeps like he's dead," says Harry, deciding upon leaving Sirius behind. The trio of Tonks, Lupin, and Harry now sneak down to the basement kitchen where they take up defensive positions. Each seeks out a corner, doorway or whatever else offers cover before slipping out to fire spells at one another.

_"Protego!"_

"That-a-boy, Harry," says Tonks, "Laugh a little, Remus,  _Rictusempra_!"

Lupin deflects the tickling charm before stepping out from the toilet room. Then he shoots a Leg-Locker at Harry which is blocked before the latter attempts to petrify Tonks.

"Oh, getting serious now, huh?  _Tarantallegra_!" The spell narrowly misses Harry. "We're having fun, lad, no seriousness needed tonight."

"Hey, guys, keep the action away from the boiler room," says Harry, "I'd rather not disturb Kreacher."

They move to the area around the table while firing and blocking throughout the evening. For Harry, this feels remarkably similar to his D.A. meetings which brings a smile to his face. Perhaps the prospect of having to wait things out might not be as bad as he thinks?

 


	22. The Department of Mysteries

March fades to April has Harry remains all but confined to Grimmauld Place. Having decided upon mostly ditching his Polyjuice plans, he saves the final five flasks for when absolutely necessary. There may be one cauldron's worth of ingredients packed in his trunk but Harry's in no mood to brew now.

"The only thing that seems to be going right these days is my Occlumency, who would've thought?" he asks, while shoving down an early breakfast at the Black family table.

Sirius, seated at its head, scoffs. "I still can't believe you didn't sneak a peek at ol' Snivellus' memories. Might've seen some interesting stuff there about the nosey bastard."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not sour the relationship with my own Head of House. It's taken a long time to earn some tolerance from Professor Snape. One wrong move would make it go  _poof,_ all gone, bye bye."

"It's like you're a hostage to being nice to Severus," says Sirius, "Oh well, guess there's no fun in that. So, what's the plan for today? You planning on studying some more?"

"I dunno," says Harry, "It's not like I can do any more theoretical preparations. You know I've been reading over everything all day long since coming here. But, if I somehow do my O.W.L.s, the practical exams are gonna wreck me."

"You're quite good at duelling, Harry."

"Yeah, but that's about it. How the hell am I gonna salvage this year? What a waste of my life." Harry forcibly calms himself down to attempt some Occlumency. His feelings of rage and indignation simmer down as he dulls his emotions, therefore clearing his mind while seated at the dining table. "Forget it, no sense in throwing tantrums now."

Try as he might, Harry's forcibly calm demeanour swiftly falters with each passing day. Friday, the 5th of April, sees the Easter holidays closing in, and even the upcoming exams cannot keep some students at school.

"Looks like they need a break from Hogwarts," says Sirius in the drawing room, upon reading a letter from Mrs. Weasley. "Big exam year or not, the Weasleys, Hermione, and Neville Longbottom are going to the Burrow tomorrow. It seems they're bringing a few other friends along too, and this'll surely pack Molly's kitchen to beyond capacity."

"Wow, even Hermione's not staying behind to study at school," Harry sits up from laying across a couch. "I guess she'll put up with studying at the noisy Burrow. Or she'll be outside where it's nice and peaceful."

"Not to mention warm and sunny," says Sirius, "Winter's long since done."

"Are they taking the Hogwarts Express to London first? Or is it the Knight Bus again?"

"Knight Bus," replies Sirius, "Far faster than the train. So, they'd all get to the Burrow somewhere around noon and have a nice big lunch. Molly wants them to spend the day studying first, and then you can visit around evening for dinner."

They move to the dining room for breakfast, and Harry grows increasingly agitated upon noting that...

"There's only six weeks until exams."

Even Sirius' surprisingly patient nature over this year falters at Harry's statement. He now leans forward in his seat at the table. "You said your only way back into Hogwarts is by proving Voldemort's return, right?"

"Yeah, I can't afford to miss out on my O.W.L.s! What if I can't get back into school this year? What if this carries on through next year as well? One year, two years behind... My classmates will be graduating by the time I get back, and that's IF I ever get back! I've been waiting and waiting and waiting but Fudge's announcement just slammed my hopes. Never mind that Hogwarts is now under the control of the Ministry of Denial."

Minutes pass by before Sirius replies. "I have an idea that might be able to get you back—"

A sudden  _pop_  echoes nearby, and Harry nearly jumps in his seat at a sudden arrival on the table.

"Harry Potter needs to come and see what is happening at school, sir!"

"Dobby? What in the—? It's great to see you, but what needs to be seen?"

Both Sirius and Harry gape open-mouthed as the elf informs them of a surprise Quidditch match happening right now.

" _What_?" Harry stands up from his seat. "But it's Friday morning! The last day before the Easter holidays, and I haven't even sent those Firebolts yet."

Dobby bangs his head on the chair (for giving away school information) until he's ordered to stop by Harry. "Thank you, Harry Potter! It is the Headmistress that wanted to get the Quidditch game out of the way as soon as possible. She says it's a 'waste of time compared to academic activities'. That's why Harry Potter's friends have been caught ill-prepared for today's match. They are losing quite badly. Does Harry Potter wish to come and see?"

"Of course I do," says Harry, before glancing at Sirius. "Can we discuss your idea when I get back? Or would you like to come with and see what Umbridge is catching on?"

"Yeah, sure," Sirius stands up and races upstairs to grab Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He then returns to the dining room before throwing it around the pair as they side-along Apparate with Dobby to the Gryffindor locker room. Audible jeers and boos from across the stadium can be heard while some students can be heard whistling and cheering.

"Probably brings back memories for you to be in here, eh?" asks Harry.

"Yep; Lupin, Peter, and I used to come in here and give your father some moral support. Not that James needed it. Then there were times that Lily used to pop in here too, though that was more towards our last years at school." Sirius gives a soft, reminiscing laugh while looking around. "Must've been at least a handful of times that one of us walked in on your soon-to-be parents kissing it out in this room. Fun times, Harry, fun times..."

"Well, they're gone and there's no point in dwelling on the past," says Harry, forcing himself to suppress the urge to hear more about his parents. "What do we have here... some last minute planning, eh?"

They approach Angelina's blackboard which is filled with scribbles and numbers. Chief among them is the points tally following the second-last game of the season. That match seems to have ended 220-90 in favour of the Lions, bringing the penultimate table to:

_Gryffindor: 490_

_Hufflepuff: 470_

_Slytherin: 460_

_Ravenclaw: 290_

"Shame, they've been caught totally off guard by today's match. Who the hell organizes Quidditch on a weekday? Aren't there classes today?" asks Sirius. "Oh yeah, the Headmistress wanted to get this out the way."

"It makes sense, from Umbridge's horrible point of view, seeing as the train leaves tomorrow morning. Then, after Easter week, it'd be full-on academics without the hype of a Quidditch final."

With just enough room for Sirius and Harry beneath the Cloak, they creep out the locker room before turning right to head up the tunnel. The commentary grows louder until they stop at the entrance overlooking the grassy pitch.

"...fine save from Ron after yet another attack by Team Slytherin in this truly unexpected game. Really, all Slytherin are doing is exploiting their Firebolts, and that's the truth! Kick me off the megaphone if anybody wants but come on! This is school Quidditch where it's supposed to be fun for all! One or two Firebolts are fine, a team of all Nimbus brooms is fine, but all  _Firebolts_? That's just... ARGH! We're still on 80-20 in favour of Slytherin as Team Gryffindor tries to get going in this match. Whoever catches the Snitch at this point wins the Cup."

From what Harry sees, it's a game in clear favour of Team Slytherin. Now he wonders whether Umbridge, a former Slytherin herself, might've told Nott's team of today's match. There's no chance of them losing to Gryffindor here, especially with their Firebolts and suspected tip-off.

The Quaffle now goes back and forth between well-prepared Slytherins exploiting their superior brooms. Even the Nimbus 2000's of Gryffindor battle to keep up the pace. Banners of scarlet and red adorn most of the stadium while Slytherin's support seems fractured, even by their own.

"Nott passes to Vaisey who easily outspeeds Angelina as Slytherin comes up to shoot. Vaisey with the shot... BLOCKED by Ron, Quaffle free for the taking... You see, THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

Harry sighs upon seeing Montague streak forward to seize the Quaffle and shoot. Gryffindor's Chasers having been left behind on their noticeably slower brooms.

"Follow-up attempt by Montague, DEFLECTED by Ron, shot again... and there's the goal. 90-20 In favour of Slytherin today."

"I think we might as well just go home at this rate," says Sirius, as Slytherin's players take full advantage of their brooms. From the Chasers speeding off to the Beaters simply zipping forward to whack the Bludgers, nothing seems to be going in favour of Gryffindor. Even Zabini simply accelerates down the pitch to assist in his team's attacks, while Gryffindor's Nimbus 2000's can hardly keep up at all. Soon, Nott's team revert to their notorious tactics as Crabbe and Goyle whack an unexpected pair of Bludgers straight at Ron.

"OH, COME ON!" shouts Lee, "It's funny when Harry Potter or Marcus Flint used to do it, but they didn't coward with all Firebolts in their matches!"

As Fred and George seek to track the Bludgers, Crabbe and Goyle easily zip past them, spin around, then whack the Bludgers their way.

"Absolutely CHEAP SHOTS! Fred and George sustain heavy blows to their arms. They're still flying but for how long? What a terribly boring 'contest' of a final this is."

Next up is Ginny who finds herself relentlessly pursued by the opposing Beaters. Although she puts up a magnificent piece of flying to evade their efforts, the Firebolts eventually close the gap.

"Ginny Weasley hits the grass as she's knocked down by those Bludgers. She's getting up but... oh come on man, seriously?"

Lee, as well as nearly the entire crowd, express contempt as Crabbe and Goyle hurl Bludgers in Ginny's direction. Their illegal shots towards an unmounted flyer comes at the cost of two penalties against Slytherin. But only one of them results in a goal. Meanwhile, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet fly at over 150 miles per hour due to being dragged along by Montague and Vaisey.

"Those cowards have grabbed hold of Katie and Angelina's brooms and are forcing our girls into a steep dive!" Lee Jordan yells insults while Madam Hooch repeatedly blows her whistle.

"FOUL! FOUL! FOUL! CEASE THIS NONSENSE AT ONCE! RELEASE YOUR GRIP FROM YOUR OPPONENTS' BROOMS IMMEDIATELY."

The pair of Slytherins eventually do let go, but only to slingshot the two Gryffindors into a crash before they can pull up. Laughing with their supporters, Nott's Chasers watch as Angelina tucks in 1 of two awarded penalties.

Elsewhere, Ginny appears to have spotted the Golden Snitch as she gives chase. But, just minutes into her battle with Malfoy, she's soon surrounded by Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini as the trio jostle and barge her aside.

Madam Hooch blows her whistle yet again, however, she now hovers right at the staff stands where Umbridge calls her aside. The pair engage in a rather animated conversation which those nearby pass on to Lee Jordan.

"It seems our referee is being reprimanded for interrupting a perfectly legal move. Well, okay, nobody is elbowing Ginny nor grabbing her broom, etc., but this is just an outrageous match. It's called 'common sense' to try and stop such an unbalanced bunch of rubbish."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS!" Madam Hooch can be heard shouting, while the booing crowd settles down. It truly feels strange for Harry to witness a game with such a lifeless crowd, seeing as only a portion of Slytherin are cheering.

"Madam Hooch?" asks Lee Jordan over the megaphone. "What's the deal, ma'am?"

Hooch gives her whistle quite possibly the lengthiest blow Harry's yet heard. Then she starts yelling at Umbridge as the latter stands slightly fuming behind the railing.

"THIS HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH! YOU'VE MADE NO EFFORT TO CURB THIS WHOLLY UNFAIR ADVANTAGE TO SLYTHERIN. HAVING THEM FLY ALL NIMBUS 2001'S WAS FINE, BUT ALL  _FIREBOLTS_? RESCHEDULING THE FINAL WITHOUT INFORMING GRYFFINDOR? LETTING QUIDDITCH PLAYERS DEDUCT HOUSE POINTS DURING THEIR GAMES JUST BECAUSE THEY'RE ON YOUR INQUISITORIAL SQUAD THING? RUBBISH!"

From Harry's position at the Gryffindor tunnel, he can't seem to hear what Umbridge's response is. However, Madam Hooch's loud yelling tells all.

"FINE! GO AND FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO REFEREE THESE GAMES IN YOUR SCHOOL, MADAM UMBRIDGE. THIS ISN'T WHAT I TEACH AND EXPECT THE YOUNGSTERS TO ASPIRE TOWARDS. CAPTAINS, CALL OFF THIS RIDICULOUS MATCH RIGHT NOW."

Angelina happily obliges the request as she flies up to Madam Hooch. Theodore Nott, as expected, utterly refuses to surrender. Now both teams converge near the staff stands as a flurry of insults, yells, and threats break loose.

"TO HELL WITH YOUR 'HEADMISTRESS'!" shouts Madam Hooch to the crowd, before zipping off on her Nimbus 2001. Much laughter and tremendous cheers resonate across the crowd now.

"What's she doing?" asks Harry, as Sirius gapes from beneath the Cloak.

"I've always suspected there's more to Madam Hooch than we'd think. She's not leaving the stadium yet, if that's what you thought."

"GET IN THERE, MADAM, GET THE BLOODY HELL IN THERE, WHOOOOOOOOOAAAAAA YEAH!" cheers Lee Jordan, while majority of the crowd chant Hooch's name. Meanwhile, Nott's supporters boo and demand that a replacement referee be sent on.

"Wha—?" Harry frowns in confusion... until he spots it: The familiar speck of gold being pursued by none other than Hooch herself. "Is this a joke, Sirius? Is she pranking the whole school right now?"

"Nope, it's so obvious that Madam Hooch is fed up of everything that's going on. And who can blame her? That woman has been here longer than you'd imagine, and she deserves a hell of a lot more respect than she sometimes gets. You know, I remember how she always used to smile whenever someone did well in her class, and yet she'd also remain patient with those who did not."

Harry's mouth falls open as he watches Madam Hooch deftly pursue the Snitch. She follows it upwards before it swivels around for a dive that the Flying Instructor copies. Now, a fuming Team Slytherin chases after her, especially after Umbridge has just fired Hooch. Angelina and her team, though, form up to shield their referee from the angered Slytherins.

"All hell is breaking loose out there today, folks!" shouts Lee, his voice nearly quivering in excitement. "Stick it to Umbridge, stick it to the bit— Hey! Who's grabbing me? Piss off, Filch, you can't take me away from the megaphone. Professor McGonagall, help me!"

"This school has gone absolutely mental!" laughs Harry, squinting to view a few silhouettes arguing in the commentary box far ahead and above.

"It's brilliant!" cheers Sirius, "Damn, if only we could join in on the fun."

"Actually, we might be able to," says Harry, taking one look up to see Madam Hooch closing in on the Snitch. Meanwhile, Harry leads Sirius back into the locker room where they raid the twins' lockers. "Check these babies out, let's light 'em up."

"Fireworks don't just light themselves from a tunnel, Harry. Oh what the hell? Just like the old days, yeah! Let's cause mayhem, Prongs!"

They drag a few boxes of the twins' fireworks out into the tunnel before lighting the stash.

_"Incendio!"_

_"Depulso!"_

The boxes are sent flying before landing far ahead on the pitch. In a flash of light, fireworks of all shapes and sizes blast around the stadium. But even through the screams and cheers, through bursts of Catherine wheels and flares, Madam Hooch finally grabs hold of the Golden Snitch.

"WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?" She shrugs before holding the Snitch up high for all to see. "NOW THIS GAME'S OVER WHETHER UMBRIDGE LIKES IT OR NOT. NOBODY RUINS MY JOB AND GETS AWAY WITH IT! GO FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO SUPPORT YOUR FILTHY TACTICS, YOU CHEATING EXCUSE FOR SLYTHERINS. HAPPY EASTER!"

Lee Jordan, who's hanging on to his table while being pulled by Filch, voices his approval. "Who cares about this stupid, awful match anyway? I suppose this counts as— Gerroff me, Filch, I said get lost!— I suppose this nullifies the match." He breathes a sigh of relief as McGonagall politely shoos Filch out the commentary box. "What's that he said? AH, WHO CARES? Our Headmistress says Slytherin should get the Cup because they've got more points before Madam Hooch's interference. Makes sense, BUT WHO THE HECK CARES? TAKE IT AND CHOKE ON THE CUP, NOTT THE ROT! INQUISITORIAL SQUAD MY ARSE. GET STUFFED!"

Both Madam Hooch and Lee Jordan receive roars of approval before the former flies out the stadium. Harry swiftly withdraws the Marauder's Map from his pocket to see Hooch flying over the front gate.

"Perhaps she's landed in Hogsmeade and heading home? Or maybe she's taken up residence at an inn?" asks Sirius.

"It's funny how one woman, Umbridge, makes even the strictest of staff revolt against her," says Harry, as a surprisingly non-dejected Team Gryffindor land upon the pitch.

"Leave the crates," says Fred nearby, "Don't make it seem like they're ours."

"Agreed, yeah," George laughs as the team rushes into the tunnel, then Ron accidentally trips over an invisible Harry's foot.

"Oi! Harry's here, people!"

Angelina spins around as the team hurries to tidy up their locker room "What? No wonder those crates got set off!"

With the Map showing Malfoy leaving the field, Harry speaks from the locker room doorway. "Guys, Team Slytherin are headed this way! Got any fireworks or stuff to hide?"

"You just blew all our evidence, hahaha!" George laughs as Team Gryffindor sits on their benches while looking in Harry's direction.

"Let's get outta here, Harry—"

"Huh? Is that Sirius too?" asks an amazed Ginny. "This is one crazy morning."

"Cheers!" Harry and Sirius now hurry down to exit the stadium, and just in time as Team Slytherin flaunt their Cup in Gryffindor's tunnel.

"LOSERS," shouts Malfoy. "We're the winners and you losers are the losers, ahahahaha!"

"See, we did it without that Plotter fool who thought he's the big thing in Slytherin," says Nott.

"Yeah, Firebolt cowards," says Angelina.

"You suck so badly that even the referee left," adds Ginny, "Madam Hooch of all people got tired of your crap."

"Good, we're cleaning house around here now," retorts Montague. "Maybe get some fresh personnel in."

"Happy Easter,  _losers_ ," says Malfoy, "Oh, and we'll take 20 points off Gryffindor for your pal Jordan's insults. Then we'll take another 10 points from Gryffindor because that's your Easter surprise... and another 10 points from Gryffindor because we strongly suspect those fireworks were yours. Enjoy losing out badly on the House Cup this year again."

"Wait, hold on," says a sneering Zabini, "I'm pretty sure Hooch was a Ravenclaw back in the day. Hahaha, we can do whatever we want, so, 20 points from Ravenclaw, even though there's no Ravenclaws here to witness, for Hooch's rubbish."

"What the hell?" asks Katie. "There's no way you can dock her for anything. No way that'll count."

"5 Points from Gryffindor for being annoying, Bell," says Vaisey. "And 3 points from Gryffindor, Spinnet, for looking like you're ready to attack us."

At this point, Harry and Sirius have left the stadium with a few of the twins' fireworks still in hand.

"Let's confuse the heck out of Umbridge's squad," says Harry, "Shall we cause a bit of mayhem before heading home?"

"Definitely." Sirius grabs three miniature rockets as Harry takes up position in the entrance courtyard. While hidden in a corner of the cloister, they stick their hands out the Cloak to ignite and hurl the fireworks. Then they swiftly cover themselves as flashes and bangs light up the soon-to-be filled courtyard. From here, they move into the building then sneak up to the second floor to booby trap Umbridge's office. The remaining fireworks now end up hidden behind a set of armour that's been moved closer to the door.

"Hahahaha, let's wait and see, no laughing too loud," says Harry, while backing off to stake out their attack. Soon enough, Umbridge strolls towards her office then opens the door...

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Her screech of terror has Harry and Sirius battling to contain their sniggering while hurrying down the corridor. A loud series of clangs follows as the armour topples over, and the invisible pair swiftly slip into an abandoned classroom.

"Sirius, let's get outta here, Dobby!"

In a matter of seconds they throw off the Cloak upon returning to the dining room of Grimmauld Place. Dobby then returns to the kitchens of Hogwarts while Sirius and Harry let out boisterous laughter.

"Most fun I've had in a long time, Harry!"

"Yeah, me too! Okay, okay, now let's hear that idea of yours."

"Oh, that," Sirius sighs as they gather around the table. "This is a last resort kind of thing. It's really not something I wanted to do, but neither can I bear to see you get left behind. Alright, so you're already familiar with getting into the Ministry and that corridor on Level Nine."

"Yep, I sure am."

"It's only us members of the Order who are taking the liberty of guarding that black door. The Ministry doesn't give a damn because they don't see any danger at the moment. This works in our favour, you see, since I happen to know our guard rotations. And guess what? We're hardly even doing guard rotations anymore."

"Because of the attack on Mr. Weasley, correct?" Harry leans against the table while deep in thought.

"Yes, it's getting far too risky to send just one guard. Plus, we can't station too many there since the Ministry isn't on our side anyway. The Order of the Phoenix would be classified a rogue organisation if they found us lurking about. That's why our guard is usually hidden beneath an Invisibility Cloak. Not as awesome as your one, though."

"So what exactly is your plan all about?" asks Harry, to which Sirius smiles and shakes his index finger.

"Ah, now here comes the risky fun part. We sneak into the Ministry once everyone's gone to the Burrow. Then we'll stay beneath the Cloak and either creep past or knock out the watchwizard on duty. Then, we take the lift down a floor before getting past that black door. I've got a special penknife that's perfect for breaking and entering."

"Sounds good but how is any of this going to get me back into school? All we're doing is breaking the law while... what are we looking for anyway?"

"I might as well stop hiding the truth from you, Harry," Sirius gives him a long, appraising look before continuing. "The so-called 'weapon' that you think Voldemort is after is nothing more than a prophecy. A prediction made by a seer long ago. I dunno what it's about but, judging by what little Dumbledore has told us, it concerns you and Voldemort. Prophecies can only be retrieved by those whom they refer to, so this means either Voldemort or you can pull it off the shelf. Anyone else who tries would simply go nuts like Boderick Bode did."

" _Finally_ ," Harry sprints around the table to grab Sirius into a hug before letting go. "Some damn answers! It's about time someone told me exactly what's happening around here. Now it all makes so much more sense. The vision I had about Rookwood... Voldemort didn't know about the rule of retrieval. But no way is he just going to waltz into the Ministry of Magic."

Sirius nods while smiling. "We Order members have our own way of communication. It's a little bit complicated but certainly reliable. Call it the messenger spell if you'd like, but that's just what it is: a talking Patronus."

"Yeah, yeah, keep the info coming," says Harry, nodding eagerly at Sirius' explanations. "At least someone's kind enough to take me out of the dark which I've been kept in this whole time."

"Now, we're not just going in for fun and games," says Sirius. "I think we ought to put the hook-nosed git to use for a change. Severus, that is. I still don't completely trust him, which is exactly what would work for us. How about this: we break into to the Ministry then I send Snivellus a Patronus message informing him of our little adventure. Why Snape, you might ask? Because there's a chance he might go telling the Death Eaters too. I think Dumbledore's using him as a spy, and in order for Snape to still keep up appearances with Voldemort he has to let them know some of our plans. This one would surely be of great importance to Voldemort. Problem is my suspicions of Snivvy, what if he doesn't inform the Order?"

"No way am I doubting my Head of House but... send a message to someone else too, just in case."

"Good thinking, perhaps I ought to first message the prat and then later send a Patronus to Dumbledore, whenever he might be. The delay between messages should give us enough time to have the Death Eaters coming in before the Order. Long story short... we have to somehow lure Voldemort out into the Ministry."

"And our prophecy would do just that," says a nodding Harry. "We're playing a hell of a dangerous gamble here, Sirius. The two of us against who knows how many Death Eaters until reinforcements arrive..."

"It doesn't take a genius in the Order to guess that Dumbledore surely must know what the prophecy is," says Sirius. "But we also need to ensure that Voldemort does _not_  get it, and that is essential. Why? I dunno, but it's what Dumbledore has kept on stressing to us."

"Destroy it then," says Harry, after considering the possibility of listening to it. "There's something odd about my connection to Voldemort, and I think it's different from simple Occlumency-Legilimency. I'd rather destroy the prophecy and then hear it from Dumbledore some other time."

"What's the difference?" asks Sirius, "Voldemort could just enter your mind in that case."

"Yeah, but I didn't say  _when_  I'd ask Dumbledore, right? Could be years from now, once I've maybe gotten stronger. But once we're in the Ministry, I'd have no choice but to listen to the prophecy there and then. That's not wise at all. And don't even ask me about bringing that thing home... however it looks. I don't want any more risks on our mission. So, we break in then scout out Level Nine. How does the Department of Mysteries look, anyway?"

Sirius shrugs while standing at the dining room table. "We're all a bit in the dark on that. All we were told is that there's a revolving room with many doors past the black door, yeah. The prophecy is kept, obviously, in the Hall of Prophecy. Plenty of other people's stuff in there too which none of us should touch. Yours and Voldemort's one is in... uh... give me a moment to think quickly..."

It takes a few minutes of deep thought before Sirius snaps his fingers.

"Aha! Row ninety-seven, if my memory serves me right. Yeah, there's dozens of rows in that place. Perfect spot for an ambush... either way."

"What's behind those other doors of this rotating room you speak of? Surely you must know something about them?"

"Top secret Ministry stuff, I'd reckon," says Sirius, "I think a better idea would be to first get the prophecy then send both messages, one to Severus, and the other to Dumbledore."

"Everything depends on Snape now," sighs Harry. "If he's truly 100% on our side then this whole thing would be a joke. What a waste of time if he doesn't inform Voldemort. I need the Dark Lord to physically come out and get this prophecy. Let's hope Snape does inform him... "

"I think he will," Sirius narrows his eyes while considering Snape. "I've never seen him do a Patronus, though, so we'll have to plan things carefully. Since it's Easter now, and Hogwarts staff will be allowed to leave, this gives the prat a window to alert his evil pals."

Harry nods. "What do you mean you've never seen Professor Snape do a Patronus? Isn't that your guys' cool little means of communication?"

"Maybe Snivellus is such a jerk of a guy that he can't conjure the genuine happiness needed for a Patronus?" asks Sirius. "I dunno what the hell would give that cold git the warmth needed to conjure one anyway. No, Snape usually relies on owls, firecalls, Fawkes by virtue of asking Dumbledore, or he just shows up in person. Never a Patronus,  _ever_ , the evil prick."

"Or maybe..." Harry tries to stifle his giggles, "Snape's Patronus is something so embarrassing he'd rather keep it hidden? There's no guarantee what one's spirit animal would be."

"Hahaha!" Sirius slams his fist on the table while laughing. "What if it's a pig? That would suit the swine really well! Pigs are inferior magical creatures too. Probably the least magical of all creatures, from what I've read."

"Okay, enough," Harry's smile immediately fades. "That's enough jokes about my Head of House. Anyway, the rotating room means we'll need some method of keeping track of where we're going through, especially when all hell breaks loose as the Death Eaters come. Remember: we need to kick their arses in the hopes of someone using their Dark Mark to summon their master."

"Now we're planning it out, yeah. You're definitely a thinking slithering serpent, eh? Not gonna enjoy the thrill of the uncertainty of just winging it? Rush in like Godric's boys, no?"

"No." Harry shakes his head. "I've got one chance to set things right and get my arse back in school. So, I reckon we could use the  _Flagrate_  spell to mark whatever door we pass through. I used that spell underwater in the Triwizard Tournament anyway, and bloody Tom Marvolo Riddle used it to write out his full name then anagram in the Chamber of Secrets. Handsome arrogant fool... oh wait, I'm one too, hahaha!"

"Very funny, Harry. Alright,  _Flagrate_ it will be. But that would also help the Death Eaters coming in through the doors, I think. We're going to need somewhere for our stand-off, depending on how long the Order will take to arrive. That's why we need our backup here as soon as possible, preferably by Apparition. So, we need to go when the Ministry is empty..."

"Don't they close earlier now that it's Easter? Or do they still work until five o'clock?" asks Harry.

"I think it's usually still the same, so we'll have to go at night," Sirius places his chin on hand while thinking. "I don't like side-along Apparition, Harry, it's something I'm a little rusty with. Sometimes it works, sometimes it might not. The rest of the Order, especially Dumbledore, are better at it than me. Therefore, we'll use Dobby to get us to the telephone box in the dark."

"Let's Disapparate around eight o'clock, that's dark enough. Then we go down the box, knock out the watchwizard, and finally go down a level," says Harry.

"There's no Order guard tomorrow night. But our usual visitors, Remus, Dora, Kingsley, and Moody, will most likely alternate between here and the Burrow for most of the day. Let's wait until this house is clear and then do our thing around evening. Molly said she wanted us to come over after dark, probably around nine o'clock once the kids have all studied for hours. Let's plan how we're going to actually survive... We'll obviously be outnumbered—"

"But we have the Cloak," says Harry.

"Yeah, but the Death Eaters know their spells. It's not difficult to cast  _Homenum Revelio_  to search an area. Although it would be tricky, since their comrades' presence will affect the spell. Bottom line is that at some point we are going to be spotted. What then?"

Harry takes a few minutes to plan this massive gamble of a mission out. "We obviously can't take them all on if Voldemort sends as many Death Eaters as I'd think. How about we first check a few rooms before using the rotating one to our advantage? Duels are about more than just power, yeah. So we let them scatter their ranks while searching various doors. Then we pick off those trickling in to wherever we're hiding. Eventually, their comrades will revive them but we'll play cat and mouse, so to speak."

"Nice plan," says Sirius, "Once Dumbledore and the rest arrive, the tide will turn and Voldemort will be forced to show himself. That's why we need to keep that prophecy intact during our fight. Hopefully, Dumbledore would have alerted the Aurors or someone to whatever's happening in the Department of Mysteries. If all goes well, I'll sit back and smile knowing that you'll be returning to school, Harry."

"Normally, when one plans this much for something, it usually doesn't go as planned," says Harry. "But there's no other way... no other chance of clearing my name. Oh I'd love to see the look on Fudge's face if somehow we get Voldemort exposed tomorrow."

"I doubt all the Death Eaters would come at once," says Sirius, "Probably a small team to check for the prophecy. Then when they see that it's gone they'll summon backup. That gives us a window of opportunity to knock some down, hopefully."

"If we're attacking from beneath the Cloak, well, let's hope my non-verbal spells aren't too bad. Fleur gave me a basic overview last school year, and I've been trying so much to practice since then."

"I have faith in you, Harry," says Sirius, "Just give it your absolute best and let's see what happens. Afterwards, we can have a drink and laugh it all off... assuming nobody dies, that is. Hopefully, nobody would be unfortunate enough to get killed while we try and expose the truth."

As Friday moves on, Sirius and Harry make no mention of these plans in the presence of their comrades. The rest of the day spent laughing and being as inconspicuous as can be. It's a good thing their plans are scheduled for tomorrow night, since Grimmauld Place houses at least a handful of Order members tonight.

On Saturday, Sirius and Harry both wake up around noon after a long night's rest. They then spend the rest of the day with the occasional visitor or two before the house clears by late afternoon.

"Molly wants you two to come over in a few hours' time," says Tonks in the dining room. "She'd rather the kids all finish their studies before hanging out with Harry, seeing as how everyone misses him."

"Yeah, sure, we'll be along," says Sirius, "Harry won't have to wait long to return to school, though."

"Huh? What's that mean?" asks Tonks. "Anyway, I'm off to the Burrow now. Remus and Mad-Eye have popped in there too, and Kingsley's on Death Eater watch around Little Whinging."

With Tonks gone, Sirius and Harry await sunset before the latter dresses in his school uniform.

"It's Easter, Harry, why the uniform?"

"Because I just feel like it, so let's go. Dobby!"

The elf arrives, and Harry forbids him from warning the others and trying to save him tonight. The pair are now taken to the visitor's entrance where they slip into the box and enter the Ministry of Magic. Before the arriving at Level Eight, Sirius and Harry throw on the Invisibility Cloak then draw their wands. It's rather dark, and as quiet as Harry's ever seen the Atrium, upon their arrival. As expected, a watchwizard comes hurrying over at the sound of the descending telephone box.

"Who's there? Disillusionment Charm? Invisibility Cloak? I think not.  _Homenum Reve—_ "

_"Stupefy!"_

Sirius' spell knocks down the guard as the invisible pair dash forward. They now stash the watchwizard into a closet off his security station.

" _Incarcerous_ _!_ _Better_  we put him in here than risk exposing him to the Death Eaters when they arrive," says Sirius, before making haste to the Ministry lifts. Down they go to Level Nine before stepping out and hurrying through the windowless corridor.

Harry's heart races as he finally pushes open the plain black door, taking him and Sirius into a large circular space. Blue flames illuminate the dimly lit room, and Harry sees many handleless doors lining the black walls. A great rumbling noise signals the rotation of the room as blurry blue flames move about in streaks of light.

"Pretty neat security measure," says Sirius, "Right, let's check that door and mark it later."

They step through the door straight ahead before coming across an enormous, rectangular room. Countless benches line a steep slope as the room descends to overlook a raised stone dias in its sunken centre. An ancient stone archway adorned by fluttering black curtains sits atop the dias. Sirius and Harry now throw off the Cloak while descending rows of benches. Soon enough, the pair approach the strange archway where whispers can be heard.

"Who's there?" asks Sirius, "I think I can hear some people, dunno who, though."

"Yeah, me too..." Harry climbs atop the dias as a sudden urge to step through the black curtains overcomes him. "Maybe I should... just take a look?"

"This is the Department of  _Mysteries_ , remember? Let's go, or did you forget what we're here for?" Sirius pulls him away from the veil before they climb up the rows of benches. "We can't dawdle too long or else that watchwizard might regain consciousness. I don't want him calling on the Ministry if it's just us in here."

Upon reaching the topmost row around the room, they survey it once again.

"What do you think, Harry? This room has quite few spots for cover. Makes for a decent place to hunker down while awaiting reinforcements, eh?"

"Let's see if the other rooms are just as big. If not, well, then you're right," Harry now leads them back to the rotating room.  _"Flagrate!"_

The room spins once again before coming to a hall. Now, with a door marked off, Harry and Sirius choose a different one. They soon end up in a dark room adorned by planets of the solar system. But as it's too narrow for a stand-off, Sirius leads them back to the circular room. Their third attempt takes them into a long, rectangular room containing what appears to be brains floating in a tank.

"Flippen hell, now that's weird," says Harry.

"Planets, a whispering veil, and now brains. Makes you wonder just what the heck the Ministry studies in secret," says Sirius. "This room is nice and long, good to hide in and stage an ambush, should we end up getting chased. I wouldn't stay too long though, because there's a big risk of getting hit with spells in here. I still prefer that big room from earlier."

Their next stop ends up in a lengthy room dedicated to the study of time itself. Harry, who's unsure of where to go, decides upon inspecting this room.

"There's a door on the far end, look!" says Sirius, pointing out the door in question. "Actually, there are plenty of doors leading off this room."

"So if we end up being chased through here... wait a  _minute_..." Harry draws his wand while prowling through the time room.

"What are you doing? Let's see what's past that far door."

"If this is a  _time_ room, which we might end up being chased through, then what do you think the Death Eaters could steal? What's something that strictly needs Ministry approval that special students use at school? What did Hermione and I use to catch Peter the rat traitor?"

"A Time Turner," mutters Sirius, as the pair walk past many desks lining this room. All around them are various clocks, a bell jar containing a looping cycle of a bird hatching, and other time-related objects. Then, Harry finally spots it: a glass-fronted cabinet containing many Time Turners sitting along the wall nearby.

_"Bombarda!"_

The explosion shatters the glass and sends the Time Turners in a seemingly permanent loop of bursting, falling, then repairing. A few more spells causes even more damage, rendering the entire stock unobtainable and unusable.

"Sorry, Ministry, but this isn't something I'd like people to mess with again. I don't have  _time_  for such rubbish," says Harry, now following Sirius towards the distant door. Finally, it seems that they've reached what could be the Hall of Prophecy.

"Now that's exactly how I pictured a prophecy record to look like," says Sirius, eyeing one of countless glass orbs lining the many shelves. "So, Mr. Slytherin Star Seeker, looks like some of these orbs are only a tiny bit bigger than a Golden Snitch. Should be easy enough for you to handle while we're running like hell, or sneaking like hell."

Harry laughs before looking up to see that they're currently at row fifty-three. "Let's go right, and keep the Cloak ready for when our guests arrive."

 _"Homenum Revelio_!" casts Sirius as the pair push forward. "Nope, doesn't look like there's anyone else nearby. Might as well make a break for it."

They now sprint ahead while passing rows 54, 55, 56... dozens of glowing orbs passing by in blurs as the pair race on. Then, at last, they reach ninety-seven before walking between towering rows of glass balls. After more than a few minutes of searching, they finally reach Harry's prophecy.

"How do these things work?" asks Harry, "I don't want it reciting whatever it has to say now. I don't wanna hear a thing!"

"Honestly, I really don't know. Maybe you dump the contents into a Pensieve or simply have to smash the orb?" asks Sirius. "Better keep that thing safe until Voldemort is forced to arrive... assuming we get that far."

"We will get that far," says Harry, while reaching out to grab the orb addressed to him and Voldemort. "Funny how it doesn't say  _Tom Marvolo Riddle_  on it. Guess he's truly changed to become the monster that he is today. Alright, you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Sirius now casts his Patronus while deep in thought. The corporeal dog eventually zips off before Sirius looks at Harry. "Hahaha, I left the message: 'Hey, Severus; Harry and I are in the place where it's hidden. Tell or your friends and Dark Lord to come visit and we'll have a blast. Yeah, I don't trust you at all. So prove that I'm right and let's get Harry back into school. This is our one and only chance to expose the truth and set things right.'"

This is followed by Sirius sending a message to Dumbledore. Harry, meanwhile, shakes his head while grinning. "And now, we wait..."

 


	23. Beyond the Veil

"What is this, a joke or something?"

"I swear, our informant must've overreacted. Surely the Potter boy wouldn't go to such lengths. Would he really seek the prophecy himself?"

"Well, I did warn you about the baby Potter, didn't I?"

"Stop calling him that, Bellatrix, it's disgusting. Now, be on your guard as someone must have dealt with security ahead of us."

Voices can be heard echoing down the Hall of Prophecy as Harry and Sirius creep away from row ninety-seven. Many footsteps sound from the main aisle as Harry peeks around the corner of row seventy-one. Sure enough, he spots nearly a dozen hooded Death Eaters walking in formation. They now attempt to inspect as many rows as possible on their way to ninety-seven.

From what Harry hears, it sounds as if Lucius Malfoy is in command as the latter speaks quite softly. "Jugson and Dolohov, stay here. Bellatrix, Nott, and Mulciber, come with me. Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Rookwood, cast your spells to sniff Potter out here. Remember, our informant said he might not be alone. But Potter's not expecting any guests either. Crabbe, go check up on Macnair and make sure he hasn't been knocked down at his post. If Potter's gotten that far already then this mission's just became far more challenging. Avery, start searching the Time Room, and don't even bother touching those Time Turners."

"Idiot," whispers Sirius, while standing behind Harry beneath the Cloak. "I guess Voldemort must've gotten really upset that we're here first. No wonder Lucius Malfoy's uncaring to even disguise everyone's names. They're under severe pressure now, alright."

"Shall we sneak off?" asks Harry.

"No, let's wait until they spot the missing prophecy and then let them know we're here. Remember, we can't take them all together. There needs to be a scrambled chase where we filter the group through various rooms. Pick 'em off in little groups or, preferably, alone. I just hope we end up in our open spot because all those narrow rooms won't work in our favour."

A tense few minutes pass by as Harry and Sirius silently creep closer to the door near row fifty-three. Meanwhile, the patrolling Death Eaters initiate their human-presence-revealing spells.

"THERE'S NO PROPHECY!" shouts Malfoy, no longer bothering for stealth. "Potter's here, he's definitely here! Double up your search and open your ears. Don't forget that Potter's known to have an Invisibility Cloak. My son informed us long ago already, now _get moving_."

"How about we send these rows crashing down?" asks a male Death Eater. "Crush 'em when we detect their presence? Or perhaps lay down sheets of frost with _Glacius_?"

"No!" replies Malfoy. "We need that prophecy or else... never mind. Find Potter first and then adjust your tactics accordingly. He's probably not heard the prophecy yet so we all need it intact. There's no need to yell out at every damn corner in this room! Send up green sparks if you spot them, otherwise we'll never get that prophecy if Potter gets away."

"Stop being so pessimistic, Lucius," says Bellatrix, "the rest of you, split up and spread out."

"STICK TOGETHER! Only a few others are to leave this room."

"Lucius, you fool!" scoffs Bellatrix. "Look at the size of this place, not to mention the other rooms around. We'll never find them if we're together."

"Splitting up makes us easier to pick off, Bellatrix. We've already got a few out there. Anymore would be pushing it dangerously against a most-likely invisible foe, or _foes_ if Potter's not alone."

"Then, in that case, get picked off! If you can't hold your own then it's not my damn fault. No weaklings deserve to serve our Lord... NOW, MOVE IT AND GET THE PROPHECY!" screams Bellatrix. " _ACCIO INVISIBILITY CLOAK_!"

Nothing happens.

"Well, well, well," she sounds strangely impressed. "Either they're not here or the little Potter's protected his Cloak against the Summoning Charm."

" _Homenum Revelio_!" yells a Death Eater, and Harry now feels something swishing over him.

"I think I got something over there, near the seventies section—"

"Sparks, Rodolphus," sighs Bellatrix, "Shouting will alert the little Potter. Especially shouting his location, pfft. Sparks are quicker and more effective. So now we know that Potter's got his Cloak protected."

"Let's move," Sirius leads Harry away from the row just as the Lestrange pair come swerving around the corner. Both cast their detection spells before Bellatrix spins around while searching row seventy-two. "She's getting closer, Harry, move!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Harry hurries off while whispering a Reductor Curse that blasts a shelf of orbs behind them.

"Row sixty-nine? Hmm..." Bellatrix eyes the tumbling glass balls most suspiciously. "Clearly a diversion."

"My cousin always was a smart one," mutters Sirius, upon looking around to see Bellatrix ordering Rabastan and Rodolphus to block the exit to the Time Room. "We need to reach the door before the Lestranges do, or else we'll be stupidly exposed, Harry."

Picking up speed, Harry and Sirius lay down a sheet of slippery ice near row sixty-five as they push forward. Meanwhile, Sirius looks behind him to see Rabastan sending up green sparks while pointing in their direction.

"Wait—" Bellatrix whispers as loudly as possible, but it's too late.

_THUD!_

"Idiot!" she shrieks, upon kicking Rodolphus on the ground. "Haven't I said that boy's smarter than you'd think? Clearly, he's been here listening to our own plans. Next time, you'd better keep an eye out for slippery slides."

As the pair reach the door, Rookwood sprints out of row fifty before firing a jet of red that narrowly passes over the Cloak. "Damnit, where are they? _Homenum Revelio_! Ah, found you. Thought you could hide from me, huh?" He looks straight in the direction of Harry as the latter reaches for the door. "Forget the sparks, the Dark Lord will reward me for getting the orb. _Petrificu_ —"

_Stupefy!_ shouts Harry in his head, firing a weak stunner which Sirius copies. Two on one makes for a decent attempt as Rookwood goes down. Just as the invisible pair exit the room, they overhear Lucius Malfoy shouting.

"IT'S LIKE FIGHTING A GHOST, I SWEAR! I'm sick of playing hide-and-seek, is Potter still in here? If not, then drop the sparks plan and get moving! When we find them... burn that Invisibility Cloak."

"Not a chance in hell," mutters Sirius, now stepping into the Time Room while sneaking behind Harry. At the far end of the lengthy room, Avery prowls around checking beneath the desks. Before he can cast his next spell, a stunner comes flying his way.

"Shouldn't we take their wands as they're knocked down?" asks Harry.

"No, let's not give the Death Eaters any ideas. That's real cowardice in our case. Plus, the Order's most likely on their way as we speak."

"Can we cripple them? Hurt them so badly they'd require extensive magical care?"

"I'd rather we knock them down while stalling for time," says Sirius. "Let's scatter their ranks, knock them out, let them revive each other, and then we have a big party in the archway room. Dumbledore and the rest will arrive and capture them all. This would surely draw out Voldemort, which is why you need to keep that prophecy safe. No prophecy, no Dark Lord."

"Man, this is risky as hell!"

"What's life without a little risk?" asks Sirius, as the pair kick the unconscious Avery and stash him beneath a desk. "Should take his comrades a while to find him, but they will find him."

"If we didn't have this Cloak we'd be dead meat now. Sometimes, I wonder if everything I do just boils down to dumb luck?"

"Take a cue from Bellatrix and stop being so pessimistic, Harry."

They sprint forward beneath the Cloak, their loud footsteps causing two Death Eaters to come barging into the Time Room. Looking back, Harry spots Malfoy trying to pinpoint their location while Nott takes aim from behind the shimmering bell jar.

_"ACCIO PROPHECY!"_

_"Protego."_

The glass ball rolls to the tip of his fingers but Harry's shield charm halts its progress.

"What? I could swear they were right ahead somewhere! So where's the glass ball?" asks Nott, before firing an _Expulso_ towards the desks metres from Harry and Sirius.

"NOTT, NO! We need that prophecy intact. Don't risk summoning it! We go with Bellatrix's plan and scatter out. Cover as much ground as possible and do whatever it takes to rip off that Cloak. But for God's sake don't go throwing spells at Potter and whoever might be with him," says Malfoy. "The odds are both in our favour and against us here."

_Expelliarmus!_ Harry fires a barely sufficient non-verbal charm that catches Nott by surprise. The jet of scarlet flinging the wand from Nott's grip across the room. This is followed by Sirius knocking Nott out with a non-verbal stunner.

Malfoy instantly rushes over while shouting. "OVER THERE! LESTRANGES, POTTER'S AT THE TIME ROOM'S EXIT. HE'S HEADING FOR THE REVOLVING ROOM!"

"I think not," whispers Sirius, leading Harry instead to an already opened door adjacent to the lengthy Time Room. To add to their ruse, he fires a spell which flings open the room's exit, revealing the dark circular one beyond.

"Go, go, go! We'll get him while that room's spinning! Someone else can revive Nott later," orders Rodolphus, sprinting with Rabastan as they link up with Malfoy. The trio of Death Eaters now passing Harry en route to the rotating room ahead.

Bellatrix exits the Hall of Prophecy, then she sweeps her gaze around the seemingly deserted Time Room before raising her wand. " _Homenum Revelio..._ Ah, he knows how to play." She grins while looking in the direction of the office door. "Come out, little bitty baby Potter. Come out and play with the big bad Bella..."

Cornered in the small office, Sirius whispers as Bellatrix's footsteps grow nearer by the second. "Listen, she's the strongest of this group. No, not Malfoy; he is smart, yeah, but has the biggest mouth I'd say."

"Let's storm out and catch Bella off guard. But then it's head either right, back to the Hall of Prophecy, or left into the rotating room. Great, an ambush either way..."

"Don't expect Bellatrix to fall for even a surprise attack," warns Sirius, as his cousin stands with her back against the wall. Then her wand arm comes around the doorway as she fires a blasting charm upwards. Dust and debris come raining down as Harry and Sirius are forced to evacuate the office.

"I'VE GOT YOU!" She yanks off the Cloak. "Sirius too? Well, well, isn't this a not-so-unexpected surprise. Oh, and there's the Azkaban baby." Her surprisingly sweet tone drops to a murderous one. " _Give me that prophecy, right now._ "

"Well, I suppose there's no choice but to... _EXPELLIARMUS_!"

" _Stupefy_!" Sirius combines his attack with Harry's one, both spells deflecting off Bellatrix's shield charm. But they do succeed in pushing her back as she flings the Cloak aside.

"You want it? There it is, come and fetch it, little Blacks," her wicked grin remains in place. "If you can get past me, that is. Tsk, tsk, poor little Potter is at a loss for surprises now."

"I'll take her, Harry!"

"Double back, Sirius, I've got a surprise for her. Won't last long though." Harry raises his wand while Bellatrix groans.

"Really now? What idiot _says_ they've got a surprise? Not going to throw a Killing Curse on me, are you? You don't have the heart to do that, Potty boy."

"Size does matter, Bella, feel free to play with my nice long... _SERPENSORTIA_!" Harry repeats the spell while Sirius enlarges the summoned serpents. Then the former commands them to attack the amused Bellatrix.

"Trying to mimic the Dark Lord, hmm? Such a tryhard, Harry Potter, I expected something better. Whatever, you won't stay lucky forever..." she feigns a yawn as the trio of three metre long serpents strike at her. "Keep trying, young Harry, and maybe let your beloved godfather show you some tricks. Little baby hasn't been in school this year, shame."

Harry gestures for Sirius to forgo attacking his cousin, and the pair race to retrieve the Cloak instead. Right upon throwing it on and exiting the Time Room, Harry spots all of his serpents already vanished by a laughing Bellatrix.

"Now I'm coming to get you... both of you!" Bellatrix briefly looks over her shoulder as the Hall of Prophecy door bursts open. More Death Eaters now race down the Time Room to link up with her. " _Rennervate_!" Nott sits up to retrieve his wand while Bellatrix speaks. "They're in the revolving room. You know, the spot where I'd have hoped Lucius, Rabastan, and Rodolphus would've set their ambush."

But there's no ambush in sight as Sirius and Harry step into the empty revolving room.

_"Colloportus!"_

Sirius' spell locks the entrance to the Time Room while the revolving one begins to spin. As expected, a loud barging noise is heard as the Death Eaters attempt to get through.

_"ALOHOMORA!"_ screams Rookwood. However, before the door is opened, Harry leads the way into a random door off the revolving room. Now they find themselves in the darkened planet chamber where gravity feels slightly reduced. It certainly resembles being in view of the known solar system.

_Stupefy!_

Harry and Sirius non-verbally catch the prowling Rabastan off guard while nobody else seems present. It seems likely that Malfoy and Rodolphus have entered different rooms. Meanwhile, Avery, Bellatrix, Rookwood, Jugson, Mulciber, and Dolohov would be selecting their doors in the circular room by now.

"Bellatrix is having fun with us," mutters Sirius, while dragging Rabastan behind a huge model of Jupiter. " _Incarcerous_!" With Rabastan bound, Sirius smiles at Harry. "Thank goodness you and my deranged cousin got acquainted in jail. But don't think she's going to play around forever. Wait and see when she gets serious. I can stand up to her, but not with all those reinforcements present."

"We should've just taken Avery, Rookwood, Nott, and Rabastan's wands," says Harry, as the invisible pair duck behind a model of Saturn.

"If we'd done that earlier, then Bellatrix might have gone into a frenzy. Fun is one thing, but she wouldn't have tolerated such cowardice, Harry. There's still some wizarding honour in even the worst of battles, I'd wager."

The door is kicked open before voices are heard arguing.

"So, Black's with Potter? I knew it! But how the hell did they slip away? Don't tell me you're screwing up the mission, Bellatrix. We're not here for fun and games!"

"You're in no position to order me around, Lucius. You haven't spent a minute in Azkaban. Imperius-claiming coward."

"I'm in command of this retrieval. Besides, Crouch is in better standing with the Dark Lord than either of us, so get moving. Rabastan should be in here, I think?"

"Crouch, another coward who got a lucky break from prison. Now the brat's ordering _me_ around? How dare he!" Bellatrix's silhouette comes into view as she and Malfoy tread lightly into the darkened room.

Harry, meanwhile, spots a few doors nearby. "We can sneak out before the action gets too hot. What room do you think's past there?"

"Dunno," whispers Sirius, as the two Death Eaters peek around a model Earth. "But it's better than heading straight for—"

_"Homenum Revelio_!" Malfoy scoffs while pointing in Harry's direction. "There are multiple people here, check behind Jupiter and near Saturn. Let's go! You should've snatched away their Cloak, Bellatrix."

"Well, I never saw them snatching away our people's wands, eh? No need to play dirty while the numbers are in our favour, Lucius."

"And do you really think backup wouldn't be on their way?" asks Malfoy, as Harry and Sirius creep closer to one of two side exits.

"So what? I've been itching for a fight for over fifteen years now. Might as well stall until they all come. Then we'll have a big party," says Bellatrix.

"Oh for Heaven's sake! If we fail this mission then it's on your head."

"No, Lucius, you're the one in direct command here. So it'll be on your head."

"I should've brought Crouch along instead, he's more stable—"

"Excuse me?"

"Look at us! Chasing after two damn people who you basically said you had cornered earlier, Bellatrix."

Hunched near the doorway at Neptune, Harry pauses to overhear the argument happening across the room.

"Well fine then!" Bellatrix lets out a loud harrumph. "Since you're so fascinated with Crouch, then maybe he'll show up later after you're done complaining. We're a dozen strong and still you can't deploy proper tactics."

"You had Potter and Black, thanks to my tactics! Don't blame me for you, yourself, letting them slip away. Heck, maybe I should've considered bringing Parkinson instead. At least she listens and does her duties."

"You know she's exempt from this assignment, Lucius, as were others like Travers, Yaxley, et cetera. The Dark Lord gave you your squad so make use of it. My guess would be my cousin going for a stand-off in the Death Chamber. That's the Gryffindor way, yes. So converge the lot in that room. It's time to party."

"No," sighs Malfoy. "We're all splitting up to search as many rooms as possible. I'm not letting your cousin and Potter slip away again. I know they haven't left the Department yet as Crabbe and Macnair have sent the all-clear again."

Sirius now waits for Bellatrix and Malfoy to face away from them before Harry opens the door.

"Ugh, the brain room again," whispers Harry, immediately spotting Jugson and Dolohov through the brain tank on the far side of the room.

"I'm sick and tired of casting the same spell over and over again," says Jugson. " _Homenum Revelio_!" He then gestures in Harry's direction to begin the attack with Dolohov.

"How can Lucius expect us to take down an invisible foe without firing spells at them?" asks Dolohov. "You hear me, Potter? You think we Death Eaters are this easy? Consider yourself _bloody_ lucky to be invisible and carrying that damn prophecy."

"Lock the doors," mutters Jugson, "We'll spot 'em when they try to unlock. And be careful about summoning the orb, because Potter knows his shield charm."

Both Death Eaters hurry across the room to seal off the main as well as side doors. Meanwhile, Harry and Sirius crouch near the centre of the narrow rectangular room.

"Good plan," whispers Sirius, "Too bad I've got this..." He leads Harry towards the door to their left. While the Death Eaters take cover and await the casting of a spell, Sirius gets into position. "Hold the Cloak up, yeah, James and I used to do this all the time. See? If you hold it just right then I can get my hand out without them seeing it or our legs. Just like that..."

While holding the Cloak as instructed, Harry observes Sirius unlocking the door with his penknife. Then they barge through just in time for the startled Death Eaters to fling spells their way.

"What? How the hell did they open that door without a spell?" asks Dolohov. "Look, just throw spells already. We'll never catch them Lucius' _safe_ way."

"They're on our tails now!" says Sirius, racing behind Harry as they descend the many benches of the Death Chamber. "Looks like this is it, our big standoff. Time for a party!"

"What a pity we chose the wrong door in the circular room. I was hoping we'd arrive in the windowless corridor," says Harry, as the pair now take cover near the foot of the raised stone dias. Incomprehensible whispers resonate around the stone archway behind Sirius.

"It's not so much about getting away than getting luring out Voldemort." Sirius swiftly looks up while Harry spots many doors opening at the top of the chamber.

"Leave Crabbe and Macnair behind to guard the lifts," orders Malfoy, leaping from bench to bench alongside his comrades. Jugson, Mulciber, Avery, Nott, the Lestranges, Dolohov, and Rookwood now cast their detection spells across the room.

"Don't be scared, Harry," says Sirius, as ten Death Eaters take up positions along the benches around the room. "When all this is over, we'll be a proper family. You'll see."

Harry grips his wand tightly, edging ahead while Sirius remains crouched with his back to the veil.

"They're somewhere near the centre," says Malfoy. "Take off that Cloak, you two, your race is run."

"It was fun," adds Bellatrix, moving ahead of Malfoy. "But now's the time to hand over that prophecy. You're in no position to bargain even should reinforcements arrive."

"Come on, Bellatrix, let's start the attack already," says Rodolphus. "Before possible backup gets here."

"We've got them surrounded," Bellatrix's expression practically oozes confidence. "And I've got a nice idea..."

"Don't summon until they're in sight," orders Malfoy. "Begin the attack."

Spells of all kind now rain down upon the invisible duo before Harry and Sirius cast their shield charms.

"Avery, Nott, and Dolohov, aim left! There they are!" Malfoy, and everyone else, now have a clear indication of Harry's position as their spells are blocked.

"No sense in staying crouched anymore," says Sirius, "We need mobility." He pulls off the Cloak and holds it in hand as Bellatrix gestures to her group.

" _Protego_!" Harry battles to keep his shield charm going while the Lestranges fire in combination on Sirius. Each blast against his shield charm sends him closer to the fluttering black curtains.

" _ACCIO PROPHECY!"_ shouts nearly every Death Eater who's not attacking Sirius. Their combined might brings Harry's shield to breaking point while he's unable to attack. More spells fly back and forth before Sirius gets in a stunner on Avery, although he takes a banishing charm in return.

"THIS IS BLOODY NUTS!" yells Harry, buckling beneath the pressure of a barrage of powerful spells. Looking left, he spots Sirius being pushed back farther by the second.

_"DEPULSO!"_

_"STUPEFY!"_

_"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

The spells keep on flying, and Rabastan goes in for the kill. _"AVADA K—"_

"No evidence!" shrieks Bellatrix, "We are to take the prophecy then get out cleanly. No time to clean up or leave corpses behind."

"But we can just toss him through the v—"

"Shut up, Rabastan!" yells Bellatrix. "I know what I'm doing. Leave it to me."

"Less arguing and more casting," says Malfoy. "They can blame Potter for the missing prophecy, hahaha!"

There's no baby voice now as a grinning Bellatrix moves to the penultimate row of benches. Her arm raised straight ahead at the defending duo. "Even the Triwizard dragon probably had to rest between its attacks, Harry. Unfortunately for you, we can keep these spells coming for a good while longer. I see your shield's giving in..."

"KEEP IT UP!" roars Nott, after reviving Avery. "Take them down, especially that Half-Blood brat who's given my son a torrid time at school!"

"You've put up a better fight than expected," sneers Bellatrix. "But in the end, nobody's invincible." She pulls back her wand arm to power another spell.

_BANG!_

The doors ahead burst open as Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley storm into the room. To Harry's surprise, he spots students following in as well. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, Lavender, Ginny, Fred and George all barge into the room.

"They've brought students to the fight!" shouts Malfoy. "SPLIT UP AND SPREAD OUT. Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Nott, break down Potter's shield. Bellatrix, engage your cousin. Everyone else, take down our guests!"

"Yes, Bellatrix," laughs Sirius. " _Engage_ me, hahaha!" He finds himself blasted upward onto the stone dias as Bellatrix prepares to engage. Her expression quite conniving as she resumes her attacks.

Through all the chaos of battle, Harry holds the prophecy tightly before casting up a shield charm.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD WENT THROUGH YOUR MINDS, POTTER AND SIRIUS?" asks Moody, while raising his wand to engage Jugson and Mulciber on the benches.

The admonishments come pouring in from every other Order member as they fight. Both Lupin and Tonks shout across the room to Sirius and Harry. The latter now shielding himself from two Lestranges.

" _SILENCIO_!" Rabastan laughs in triumph while gesturing at Harry. "I'VE GOT HIM, POTTER'S BEEN SILENCED! _ACCIO PROPH_ —ARGH!"

Grinning as well, Harry catches the Death Eater off-guard with a stunner.

"What's this?" asks Bellatrix, spinning around while duelling Sirius. Then she roars with laughter while hurrying towards Harry. "THE LITTLE BABY POTTER CAN DO NON-VERBAL SPELLS? Well then, let's see him take on the big bad Bellatrix herself. You two, take down Sirius."

While Rodolphus and Rookwood take on Sirius. Harry removes the silencing charm from himself before leaping off the dias. He lands with a thud near the descending trio of Hermione, Neville, and Ron, before Bellatrix blasts them back.

"BELLATRIX LESTRANGE!" shouts Neville, "Do you know who I am? My parents will be avenged. _Stupefy_!"

The stunner is effortlessly blocked by a cackling Bellatrix while Hermione and Ron rush to Harry's side.

"Are you absolutely MAD?" asks Hermione. "What the hell were you and Sirius thinking coming out here by yourselves?" She then notices Harry's school uniform and swiftly softens her expression. "Oh, Harry, you... you didn't have to..."

A shriek of pain echoes as Bellatrix hits Neville with a banishing charm. Then, Dolohov abandons his fight against Lupin to lash out at the downed Neville.

"One down!" Dolohov's kick breaks both Neville's nose and wand. "You stupid brats dare take on us Death Eaters—" He ducks the incoming spell from Tonks while linking up with Avery. Now it's two-on-two as they sprint across the benches taking on Lupin and Tonks.

Elsewhere, Kingsley (with minor assistance from Lavender and Ginny) incapacitates Jugson while Moody and George take down Mulciber. Then, Kingsley links up with Moody's group to take on Dolohov. Malfoy now joins Rookwood in fighting Sirius, who's recently blasted Rodolphus unconscious off the dias.

"Down like your parents, boy," says Bellatrix while looking at Neville. Meanwhile, Luna comes racing over to help the bleeding boy to his feet.

" _Expelliarmus_!" yells _Ron._

" _Stupefy_!" adds Hermione.

Their combined attack is blocked before Bellatrix blasts the ground before them, sending both toppling backwards.

"I see you've gotten better after Azkaban," says Harry, moving towards the raised stone dias. "And you certainly look better too, Bella."

"What the heck am I hearing?" asks a shocked Neville, while Hermione and Ron are joined by Lupin descending from above.

"Likewise, baby Potter, likewise... ON YOUR GUARD, CHILD!" Bellatrix flings a non-verbal stunner which Harry just about blocks, though barely. "That's a good little boy. Not going to drop easily, eh? I wonder how strong your shield could be? Surely it'd shatter at a _CRUCIO_!"

Indeed it shatters, but also takes the brunt of the curse in the process. Now Harry climbs atop the dias as Bellatrix slips away from the pursuing Lupin to give chase.

"Sirius! Let's team up," says Harry, backing his godfather as they duel metres from the fluttering black curtain. It's only now that Bellatrix spots what Harry's hoped she wouldn't.

"Wait a minute..." She ignores the yelp of Malfoy getting knocked down (but not out) by Sirius. "I thought I was just imagining things earlier but... POTTER!" Her shriek of anger turns many heads to look in the direction of the stone dias. "WHY DOES YOUR WAND LOOK LIKE THE DARK LORD'S? WHY? ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!"

"His WHAT?" shouts Malfoy, climbing back up the dias. "YOU IDIOT DEGENERATE, HALF-BLOOD! FASHIONING YOUR WAND TO RESEMBLE OUR LORD'S? What is that thing now again. Ah, maple and unicorn hair..."

"I'm sorry, Bella," says an almost amused Harry. "Maybe I am just a filthy, no-good, copycat Half-Blood after all?"

"You certainly are... _CRUCIO_!"

Just as Harry narrowly evades the curse, Sirius hurls his attacks at Bellatrix. "HOW DARE YOU THROW THAT CURSE AT HIM!"

"It's not like he's never been exposed to the Unforgivables," scoffs Bellatrix, who teams up with Malfoy and Rookwood against Harry and Sirius. By now, they're the last active combatants in the chamber. Sirius knocks down Rookwood before Harry blocks Malfoy's summoning charm on the prophecy. Then, a jet of red light soars over the crouched Sirius, who lets out a mocking laugh.

"Come on, surely you can do better than that, Cruciatus Girl!"

The second jet of light hits him squarely in the chest, and everything happens in split seconds for Harry. His heart races at the sight of his beloved godfather tumbling backwards in a graceful arc. Then, the memory of Yasmin's prank back in third year springs to mind.

_LEVICORPUS_! He fires the jet of light straight at Sirius, who's instantly hoisted by his ankle high above the archway. Then comes a second silent spell. _DEPULSO_! It's certainly going to hurt, and Harry winces as Sirius is blasted shoulder-first into the middle row of benches.

"How did you guess, baby Potter?" asks Bellatrix, ignoring the anguished squirms of her cousin clutching his broken arm. "Do tell me. Halt, Lucius!"

"No more games, Potter," Malfoy ignores Bellatrix as he raises his wand. " _IMPERIO_!"

_Give me the prophecy, give it_... Lucius Malfoy's voice fills Harry's mind, then the latter yells out and takes aim.

"Screw you, _Expelliarmus_!"

Malfoy is caught off-guard and disarmed. "Something's not quite right here... how could an expelled, Muggle-living boy put up such a fight. You deceptive..."

Before Malfoy can look at a smiling Kingsley, Moody flicks his wand to knock the Death Eater down. "Good on you, Potter. I see my classes didn't end up a waste after all."

"Nice one, James! Argh, not so nice one on my arm though," groans Sirius, sitting up as Lupin and Tonks rush to aid him.

"I can't believe what I just saw," says a laughing Lupin. "You're right, 'James' totally saved your arse this time. _Levicorpus_... how long has it been?"

"Just one more left," says Tonks, "No, students, don't try and take my aunt on."

"Back off, people, back off!" warns Fred, joining his twin in pulling the other students back.

"Numbers on our side or not, that's _Bellatrix Lestrange_ ," says Lavender, trying to drag away the enraged Neville.

"Give me a wand and I'll help you guys take her to prison."

"Don't be crazy, Neville!" shouts Ginny. "Let the grown-ups handle her."

"Looks like I'm the last one standing at this party," says a sighing Bellatrix, then she throws out a non-verbal spell.

_"PROTEGO_!" Harry narrowly maintains his grip on the prophecy. That is, before an explosion near the archway sends him tumbling off the dias. Gasps echo around the room as the orb is snatched in midair.

"I'll take that, fool. So, you think you're clever, Potter?"

Looking up, Harry sees none other than Bartemius Crouch Junior standing over him. Then, another sound alerts him to a second Apparition nearby. Screams fill the room before flashes of light, thankfully not yet green, knock down Kingsley, Tonks, and Lupin.

"My Lord, the prophecy..." Crouch kneels at the edge of the dias while holding the glass ball up. Scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes gleam maliciously as Voldemort approaches the foot of the dias. Bellatrix instantly prostrates while offering up apologies, causing the Dark Lord to halt.

"Be quiet, Bellatrix, Lord Voldemort has not entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your snivelling apologies. I expected far better from you tonight. Now make yourself useful and revive the rest."

In the midst of Bellatrix's terrified pleading and shows of gratitude towards her master, Harry grits his teeth. He struggles to climb atop the dias while looking at Crouch. Memories of one fallen girl in a tracksuit fill his mind, breaking down his calm composure. Brown hair falling through the night air flashes by, and all Harry needs is to cause pain. To enjoy the suffering of such a ruthless murderer. To savour the screams of a most faithful servant.

_"CRUCIO!"_

And indeed, before a shocked crowd, Bartemius Crouch Junior falls to the ground in one horrendous scream. The glass orb then wrenched from his grip as Harry follows up with a non-verbal summoning charm. Voldemort flicks his wand to summon the orb, which Harry counters with a shield charm that's instantly shattered. He then banishes the prophecy from his own grip, sending it flying towards a distant end of the room. Now there's mere seconds left as Voldemort once again fires a summoning charm. But Harry follows up with:

_"CONFRINGO!"_

Although the orb spins around in midair, it explodes in a shatter of glass, causing a pearly white figure to emerge and speak. Harry now blasts a nearby section of ground before Voldemort Disapparates. By the time he reappears at the blast, the figure's already swept away by dust and debris.

"NOW NONE OF US KNOW WHAT THE PROPHECY SAYS," yells Harry, spinning around as Voldemort Apparates onto the dias. A terrifyingly calm rage exhibited by the Dark Lord. "HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT HU—"

_"Crucio!"_

Voldemort effortlessly brings Harry down in a fit of screams after the former's climbed atop the dias. The sensation of white-hot knives tear through every inch of Harry's body while those around can but only watch. One by one, Bellatrix revives her fallen comrades even with the Order members looking on. The presence of Voldemort himself having turned the tide of battle. Screams of terror come from every student gathered around.

"LET HIM GO!" yells Sirius. "LET HIM GO, YOU COWARD!"

Crouch gets to his feet but is told to stand down as Voldemort continues torturing Harry. Finally, after more than a few seconds of agony, the latter's released from the curse before Voldemort speaks. The chamber going almost silent save for this high, cold voice. "So, you've destroyed my prophecy, Harry?"

" _Our_ prophecy, Voldemort."

They glare at each other from opposite ends of the raised stone dias. Voldemort stands tall and fearless while Harry hauls himself up.

"You didn't expect that, did you?" asks Harry. "Didn't expect me to use the Cruciatus, hmm?"

"My Lord—"

One look from Voldemort has Bellatrix backing off alongside a revived Malfoy and Rookwood. The trio now going on to reawaken their unconscious allies, although many sport noticeable injuries. By Voldemort's order, a livid Crouch leaps off the dias while the former raises his wand at Harry.

"Such a fitting place for you to finally be reunited with mum and dad, eh?" Voldemort flicks his wand to blast a section of the bench near Sirius. The latter having attempted to stand up and fight.

"Such a fitting place for you to die, _My Lord_ ," growls Harry, dropping all of his playful nature.

"Harry!" shouts Hermione. "Run! Don't do it, that's really Volde—"

"Silence," says Voldemort calmly, "you filthy Mudblood."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THE DARK LORD'S NAME?" asks Crouch, shaking with rage while looking at a terrified Hermione. "YOU DARE BESMIRCH IT WITH YOUR MUGGLE-MADE LIPS, SWINE?"

"You should've died in Azkaban, Crouch," says Harry. "Maybe I'll give you another chance to do so."

A burning sensation courses through Harry's scar while Voldemort remains looking at him. "A valiant, and foolish, attempt to snatch the prophecy with a pre-emptive strike. But this has lasted long enough, and I have nothing more to say to you, Harry Potter. You have irked me too often, for too long—"

Harry knows what's coming, he can feel it. Now he raises his wand before smiling. "Look familiar, Voldemort?"

"A pale imitation, Potter. But at least they will bury your corpse with the genuine crest of Slytherin. Take that as consolation..."

_"Expelliarmus!"_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Green against red, the jets of light soar in from either ends of the dias. They collide right before the centre of the stone archway, and Voldemort's expression speaks volumes.

"My Lord!" yells Crouch, standing metres from the foot of the dias. "It's happening again! But how, I do not understand?"

" _Dumbledore_ ," says Voldemort, his cold voice filled with malice while both duellists' wands vibrate as in the graveyard. "The old man has struck lucky with his tricks. Somehow, Potter's obtained himself another brother wand... Lucius!"

"My Lord, the parchment we've plundered read maple and unicorn hair—"

"You _fool_ , Lucius, you have been misled." Voldemort's fury brings Malfoy into the most subservient prostration Harry's yet seen. "But it is of little concern, for Harry Potter is weak."

Struggling with all his might, even in view of his flabbergasted friends and foes, Harry's eyes widen. For now, inches away, green overtakes red in the beam, death drawing closer by the second. Five inches, four, three... the length of _Expelliarmus_ dwindles as the Killing Curse creeps in.

"Mummy and daddy won't save you this time, Harry Potter! Can you not hear them whispering from beyond the Veil of Death? The divide between this world and that which I, Lord Voldemort, shall never experience? Save yourself the pain and simply hop through the curtains—"

"SHUT UP!" roars Harry, wondering why the golden link has not yet been formed. Perhaps the connection requires a bit more time before the phoenix song kicks in?

"Such a weak spell, Harry," says Voldemort, upon seeing merely two inches of red left. "Have you had a change of heart? Azkaban instilled its fear well enough? Are you scared to attempt—"

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Red switches to a burst of green, the latter lighting up both the room and widened eyes of onlookers. Harry, screaming for all its worth, forces the connection of green back to the beam's centre.

"Mummy and daddy won't be too pleased with their little boy using such a big Curse, Harry," taunts Voldemort. "They will think he hasn't learnt his lesson from Azkaban. Where's your Muggle-bred mother now, Potter?"

Finally, the juddering beam of green switches to gold. Then a cage of thin threads encloses the centre of the Death Chamber. They can watch, but none are able to interrupt the contest of wands as Harry ushers forward beams of light running along the thread. His wand, his hands, his legs... everything seems to be shuddering from the vibrations of _Priori Incantatem._

"What is that sound?" shrieks Bellatrix, while Harry basks in the voice of the phoenix. "My Lord!"

"Do nothing, I command you to do nothing!" orders Voldemort to his Death Eaters, as the beams of light finally connect with his wand. "Consider this your final hour, Potter. Nothing and nobody can save you now."

Crouch laughs while pointing at Harry. "There will be no portkeys saving you this time, Potter. There will be no trickery against our Lord! There will be no escape for anyone daring to defy Him."

Screams fill the air as Voldemort's wand begins regurgitating its last spells. Screams and flashes of different lights fill the cage, and the wait comes just as Harry's expected. After all, it has been quite awhile since Voldemort's wand has last murdered someone.

Somewhere far above, at the topmost row of benches, three silhouettes march into the room. Chancing a glance, Harry sees Dumbledore, McGonagall, and even Snape descending the benches. All three stop in their tracks at the sight of this connection. Voldemort, however, hardly cares for Snape's presence, and Harry reckons he's confident in his spy.

"My Lord!" shouts Crouch, "It's Dumbledore and the—"

"Be quiet, please," says Dumbledore, whose presence deters Malfoy's squad. "Harry..."

Bursts of gray now blossom out from Voldemort's wand. Wisps of smoke coalesce into humanoid forms as Harry speaks:

"I'M TAKING HIM! I'M NOT LETTING GO JUST YET! I WANT TO SEE—"

"Mummy and daddy?" asks Voldemort, "Pathetic, Potter. Why speak with the dead when you can join them? I _will_ break through this connection. How dare a fifteen year old believe himself to fend off Lord Voldemort's attack?" The struggle continues as he amplifies his spell, thereby increasing the intensity of the golden thread connecting these wands. "You have earned yourself two life sentences in Azkaban today, Potter—"

"No, he hasn't," says a voice. One so familiar that a misty-eyed Harry turns to see the echo of Alyssa Parkinson standing right beside him. She appears no different than at the graveyard. No different than if she were alive, except that she's unable to be felt. "I'm so, so sorry you went to Azkaban because of me, Harry, I'm so sorry..."

"It's not your fault," says Harry, while everyone opposed to Voldemort scrambles closer to the cage. It's not every day that one sees the dead, even in the wizarding world. "I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you, my friend."

Alyssa walks across the dias, passing by the re-emerged Frank Bryce and Bertha Jorkins, both of whom stare down their killer. And now even Bellatrix lets out a yell of fear at seeing the dead.

"Stupid schoolgirl," scoffs Voldemort, while battling in his attempts at overpowering this connection. "Go back to the dead world where you belong."

"I got a shot on you, loser. I got a shot in before leaving this world. You're not so tough at all, Voldemort."

"Harry," sneers Voldemort. "Your friend needs company in the afterlife! They're waiting for you, Harry. Your filthy Mugglebred mother is waiting for her little brat. Where's your mummy, Harry? Where's your daddy, Harry?"

"SHUT UP, YOU SWINE!" screams Harry, forcing himself to hang on to his vibrating wand.

"Where's your mummy—"

"I am right over here, Lord Voldemort."

Three Half-Bloods of Slytherin turn to look upon Lily Potter. But of them, one snarls in contempt, the grieving second is warned by Dumbledore to remain discreet, and the grieving third openly cries out:

"Mummy!"

"I'm here, sweetheart," says Lily, walking closer to Harry. But her embrace is unfeeling, lifeless, and all Harry can do is imagine how this hug might've felt. He dares not look his tearful friends in the eye. For a pang shoots through Harry's chest upon seeing Hermione covering her mouth. Glistening tears flood down her reddened cheeks as she observes the embrace.

"Mudblood number two has just entered the battlefield," says a scoffing Voldemort, to which his followers jeer and laugh. Snape, meanwhile, battles to maintain his composure while Voldemort continues to speak. "Look, Potter, mummy's trying to touch you. Maybe she could if she wasn't a bit too _dead_."

"Maybe you could beat my son if you were half the man he is, Voldemort—" Lily's retort is interrupted as she looks left. Now, Sirius and Lupin leap so fast that they tumble down the bottom rows of benches, landing face-first against the golden cage.

"LILY!" they scream in tearful unison. Even Dumbledore and McGonagall shed tears. And to see these two crying is a sight to behold, in Harry's opinion. Elsewhere, Snape seems to be staring at Harry with an expression that he's unable to interpret, while unable to even suspect the Potions master's secrets.

"Hello, boys," Lily responds with a bright smile. "Calm down and breathe. I'm so sorry that you ended up in Azkaban, Sirius, just like my darling Harry."

"No! I'm the one who's sorry. I'm the one who ruined everything with my stupid, foolish, ignorant idea of switching with Peter!" says Sirius, his voice shaking with remorse.

"A job well done," scoffs Voldemort, while his followers laugh yet again. "It's like a nice big reunion before they're all together again someday. Soon, that is. Now all that's missing is Harry's daddy dearest and they'll all jump through the Veil one by one in mourning."

Sirius and Lupin lean against the cage while Lily remains smiling. "You did what you felt was right, Sirius, and we don't blame you. Nobody blames you, except yourself. Let it go and move on because James and I have long since forgiven you. In fact, there was nothing to forgive, old friend. You certainly look a bit older, and ragged too. But you're still a handsome man, so don't give up on finding that special someone."

"He's getting romantic advice from the dead!" says Voldemort, eliciting more laughter from his followers.

"What would you know about that?" asks Harry, still holding on as the connection is maintained. Somehow, it's unexpectedly easier for both of them now. "Who would want something like you?"

"My Lord, the boy speaks lies!" says Bellatrix. "Let me kill him—"

"Be quiet, Bellatrix. My presence wouldn't have been required had you made yourself useful. Do not speak until spoken to. Barty did more in a few seconds than you attempted in all this time..."

Meanwhile, Sirius and Lupin are joined by their comrades, and even Moody cannot hide his tears.

"Look at you, Mad-Eye!" says Lily, "James is on his way, and he also wants to thank you for making our Harry strong."

For once, Moody can't find a response other than a few nods.

"James—" says Sirius.

"—is on his way?" asks Lupin.

"He's coming?"

"To talk to us?"

Tonks approaches Lupin while her hair's already a grieving shade of brown. "Are you alright, Remus?"

"Never better and never feeling any worse at the same time," replies Lupin, letting Tonks dab the tears off his cheeks.

Voldemort remains smug regardless of Alyssa, Frank, and Bertha surrounding him with insults. "By all means, keep your annoying words coming; they bother me not in the least." He remains adamant on proving that the Priori Incantatem can be overpowered by sheer might.

Harry, on the other end, remains too focused to notice the gathering of Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lily nearby. And now, a familiar voice speaks upon emerging from the duel:

"Still failing to harm my son, Voldemort?"

Everyone swiftly looks to see James Potter standing beside his son. Of the group, it's Ginny who first gasps. "They really do look alike; it's insane!"

"JAMES!"

Sirius trips over Lupin's foot before the latter accidentally tumbles over him too. Both rolling and landing, once more, against the golden cage.

"JAMES!"

They lean against the barrier, banging their fists on its shimmering exterior.

"JAMES!"

"What happened to them, son?" asks James, looking at Harry. "It seems they only know one word."

"JAMES!"

"I think they're in need of some help," says James, gesturing to his temple. He then proceeds to stand with his hands in his pockets while whistling and looking around. "Lily, did you hear something?"

Sighing, Lily stomps over and spins James (to face Sirius and Lupin) just as Snape awaits his chance for a reunion with Lily.

"JAMES!"

"Thank you for reminding me of my name. How are you folks doing?"

Back in the heart of the action, Harry hears Alyssa whispering to him. "I think the Veil is interfering with this connection of yours, and that's a good thing because my uncle doesn't want to be seen. He's afraid of letting his death be known to Aunt Holly and my little Pansy. We don't want them getting hurt, you know."

"Well, he has to come out now, doesn't he?" asks Harry, upon seeing another wisp of gray flying out from Voldemort's wand. This one, however, passes through the Veil of Death before returning from its other end.

"I dunno what magic is at play here, but he said something about a swap; there are things even we dead people aren't too sure of. I'm telling you, Harry, this one's an absolute _shocker_ who shouldn't even come out here. It's not someone killed with Voldemort's own wand..."

Harry sees the wispy gray smoke approach and coalesce into a tall, pale, and dark haired man.

"What in the heck?" gasps Harry, more focused on this new arrival than the discreet little conversation happening between Lily and Snape elsewhere. "Hey, Voldemort, take a look! Daddy's here!"


	24. Showdown

"Your followers might already know," says Harry, still battling to maintain the golden connection. "But so will everyone in this room, Voldemort. Or should I call you by your real name, hmm? The name you've taken from this gentleman standing right next to me. Do tell me: did you murder him too?"

"HOW ARE YOU HERE? YOU SHOULDN'T BE COMING OUT OF THIS WAND!" yells Voldemort, clearly on edge at this unexpected arrival.

Riddle Sr., resembling an older version of the boy whom Harry's faced in the Chamber of Secrets, stands tall. His expression one of sheer disgust while looking upon Voldemort.

"You can't hide this fact," says Harry to Voldemort, "Your daddy's a Muggle. So I ask again, Voldemort, did you murder your daddy dearest?"

"You are a waste of space, Tom," says Riddle Sr., strutting along the dias like a true gentry. In fact, he remains dressed in Muggle formal wear from the early 20th century. "You are no son of mine."

These words seem to hit Crouch Jr. far more than the livid Voldemort.

"YOU MUGGLE TRASH!" yells Crouch Jr. "My Lord, if I could harm him, then I surely would. Your Blood Status does not matter to us, My Lord, you are the highest of wizards. You are the Heir of Slytherin, and we all prostrate before you. Kneel!"

The Death Eaters, with the exception of Snape, all hurriedly bow down before their master.

Laughing coldly at the scene, Riddle Sr. shakes his head. "Just like your disgusting trickster of a mother—" The ghostly echo begins to fade, and Riddle Sr. immediately looks at Harry. "You, Harry Potter, do note that my disgusting excuse of an offspring is trying to break the connection. Indeed, even a Muggle like myself knows about this world now that I am dead. Murdered by that coward's hand... or _wand_ , which you chaps go around using."

"Enough of this," says Voldemort, brandishing his wand while attempting to break the connection. "I will not hear anymore of the lies and filth which spews from your ignorant Muggle mouth. You are no true father of mine, Tom Riddle."

"Look at us," laughs Harry, fighting to maintain the connection. "Bringing our dads to the fight. What is this? Are we having a primary school brawl?"

Suddenly, Harry's scar burns with a fury he's rarely felt before. Now his legs begin to shake as he struggles to maintain the connection which Voldemort's attempting to break. The presence of Riddle Sr. having brought about a sense of panic to his son, which Harry detects from the scar.

"He can't hold out much longer," says James, standing at the barrier near his old friends. "How very awesome of you, Voldemort, to be overpowering a fifteen year old."

"You've got so many decades more experience than our son," says Lily, "But look at you struggling. You will never beat our Harry, because he will destroy you."

"How about this?" asks Alyssa, pointing and shrieking with laughter at Voldemort. "I am more of a Pureblood than you are, _My Lord_. Hahahaha! No offense to you, Mr. Riddle Sr., but your son's a goddamned hypocrite."

"None taken, young lass. But, as I've said, that monstrosity is no son of mine at all. He is a _mistake_."

Even as Harry struggles beneath the force of holding the connection, he lets out a loud whistle. "Oh wow, your daddy thinks you're a mistake."

Voldemort struggles and hopelessly fails to terminate this persistent connection. Then it appears as if he's attempting, and failing, to Disapparate. "You think you've trapped me, Dumbledore? Your Anti-Disapparition Jinx will not hold me here. It's only a matter of time until the weak Potter is unable to maintain this connection."

"Well then," says James, beckoning Lupin and Sirius over. "Come on, Padfoot, Moony, this is it. One more time, boys, let's give it to him. You're a loser, Voldemort, and you're a swine! Say it with me, boys, sing it if you'd like."

"You're a loser and you're a swine!" says a tearful Sirius, which Lupin copies as they pound their fists on the cage. Their antics not unlike mischievous little children now.

"You _scum_ —" Crouch Jr. moves to attack but backs off as Dumbledore seems ready to fight.

"Heeeeee's a loser, heeeee's trash, heeeee looks like a filthy rash," sings James, now prancing around much like Harry's done before. "Wooooo, kick his arse, son, destroy Lord Voldemort!"

"'Lord' my backside," scoffs Riddle Sr., "This is no gentry." He stands metres to the right of Voldemort while speaking. "You are a piece, no...pile, no... you are a _valley_ of excrement, vermin."

"And you are but a mere Muggle. That is less than excrement."

"If I ever had a son," says Riddle Sr., "then I'd have preferred that gentleman." He points at Harry, who laughs in return.

"You got disowned in front of everyone, Voldemort, your daddy's not happy with his naughty boy."

"In your face!" adds James, jeering at Voldemort. "Even folks from the history channel prefer my boy as their son. Who wouldn't? He's the better Slytherin between the two of you, Voldemort."

"It's time, Harry," says Dumbledore, "you can no longer adequately maintain the connection. Allow me to take over."

"Ooooooh," says James to Voldemort, "You're gonna get your arse handed to you by Professor Dumbledore himself. Headmaster-SLAM to gut you like a ham! All aboard the arse-kicking express!"

"Tell it to him, James, you tell him!" says Lupin. "He's a coward who caught you off guard at home."

"Yeah, Voldemort's pathetic and he's a coward," adds Sirius, "Harry will take him down someday, just you watch."

"You couldn't beat Harry when he was just a baby," says Alyssa, while Bertha and Frank join in on the insults.

"You come killing us 'Muggle' folk who don't even know about them magic," says Frank. "You talk about that Pureblood whatever like you're some sort of ruler? Well, guess what, scum? You ain't the first dictator who ain't exactly what they preach. I've seen your type in my years, I did my share of battles, fought my share of wars. People like you eventually end up lost in the chapters of textbook history."

"You're a scoundrel swine, Voldemort," says Bertha. "And _you_ "—She turns to glare at Crouch Jr.—"are a shame upon your father. In fact, both of you are insults to the men whose names you carry."

"Are you listening to the dead, Barty?" asks Voldemort. "It matters little what they say."

"Because they are _dead_ , My Lord!"

One final wisp of gray shoots from Voldemort's wand before coalescing beside Harry.

"Thought I might come out and say that your days are numbered, Voldemort. We fallen guard await your destruction."

Moody gapes while pointing at the latest echo. "Dorcas?"

"Sorry about the delay," says the woman named Dorcas, "But there's no time for a tearful reunion." She turns to the struggling Harry. "Listen to the Headmaster, Harry Potter, and let him take over."

"But I don't want you all to leave," says Harry, "I want you to—"

"Stay?" asks a misty-eyed Lily, now approaching her son while walking beside James. "I'm afraid that we cannot do so." Both Potters hug their son, even though he feels nothing but a chill. "We love you, sweetheart, and we're forever proud of our little Slytherin."

"What a joke," scoffs Voldemort.

" _You_ are a joke," retorts Riddle Sr., "An expired joke of the womb and one terrible mistake. An ejaculated blight upon this land and its people." He walks across the stone dias to pat Harry on the shoulder, or as close to it as he can estimate. "This is a lad who's going places, Tom, unlike you."

"Yes, he'll be joining all of you soon enough," says Voldemort.

"Two minutes at the most, Harry," says James, "You can't hold out much longer. There's nothing more your mother and I need to say. You're our absolutely brilliant son."

"I just wish we could've given you siblings, Harry," says Lily. "We never ever intended on leaving you alone in this world."

"I've still got family," says Harry, "no way I'm alone."

"You hear that, excrement?" Riddle Sr. glares at Voldemort. "Harry Potter doesn't go around murdering his relatives in cold blood. I suppose it's only fitting that you ended up resembling manure after all your misdeeds, Tom. A pale, dried out, walking sludge of dung you are."

"He's been naughty," says Harry, "Tell Tom Jr. to curb his tempers and go to his room, hahaha."

"I would, if this were a son of mine."

James, meanwhile, turns to look at Sirius. "Thanks for looking after Harry, and let me say that I'm sorry about those twelve years."

"Worth every second," says Sirius, wiping the streaks of tears from his cheeks, "to be here now."

"Don't cry, sweetie," says Lily, while approaching the cage and smiling at Hermione.

"This war is far from over," says Dorcas to her allies. "Don't let up until it's done... until Voldemort is finished."

"Hey, handsome," whispers Alyssa in Harry's ear. "Don't forget to tell Pansy that I still, and always will, love her to bits. Okay? She's growing up to be a fine little P. You take good care of her, alright?"

"Of course I will."

"Put that rabid animal out of its misery, Harry Potter," says Riddle Sr., in reference to his unwanted son. "Farewell."

Harry nods before seeing the echoes of the fallen gradually fade. The Priori Incantatem fizzling out as the golden cage slowly disintegrates.

"I told you all that Potter's weak," sneers Voldemort, "He's nothing without sheer dumb luck and hiding behind others."

"You're the weak one," says James to Voldemort, "but far too stupid and blind to see it. Enjoy living and dying in arrogance, you dunderhead..."

Threads of gold vanish as the cage opens up, and the beam of gold reverts to a splendid green. The sight of the Killing Curse coming from both wands elicits a gasp, even from McGonagall.

"Still think you can hold on, weak Potter?" asks Voldemort. "The Killing Curse is out of your league."

"Well, I've held it long enough for the dead to have their say. Now let _me_ break this connection, because you're too weak."

Harry does exactly this as he wrenches his wand upward, breaking the beam of green. A light shockwave sends both duellists staggering to opposite ends of the dias before all-out war resumes. Death Eaters mercilessly engage their opponents as jinxes, hexes, and curses go flying about. Harry, fairly fatigued from his struggle, quickly leaps off the dias to the safety of those nearby. He rests against the lowest row of benches while surrounded by friendly faces.

"Don't say a thing," mutters Harry, while Hermione squeezes him into a hug. "Anybody up for watching Professor Dumbledore kick Lord Voldemort's arse?"

"Count me in, mate," says Ron, "I dunno if I should feel sad or happy at what happened just now."

"Happy, of course," says a sweetly smiling Lavender, "He actually got to see his parents—" She then screams as a flash of green soars their way.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" shouts McGonagall, firing a spell towards the pile of stones near Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lavender. In less than a second, a two-metre high boulder appears out of nowhere, absorbing Voldemort's Killing Curse. "YOU COWARD!"

Bangs and flashes fill the area around the dias as Dumbledore engages Voldemort. Both duellists displaying skill far above even their most powerful allies. But as Harry views the onslaught of spells and skill, he wonders just how anybody but Dumbledore can hope to defeat Voldemort.

A scuttle of boots running beside the Veil soon has Harry looking up while sitting on the ground. "I'm tired, Bella, maybe we can do this some other time?"

Bellatrix glares down at him while standing at the edge of the raised stone dias. "Running your mouth against the Dark Lord himself, Potter? You are seriously crazy and in need of psychological help."

"Just let me rest, alright? We can argue and hurl insults another day, Madam Bella."

"It's _Madam Lestrange_ to you," insists a smug Bellatrix.

"If you want Harry, then you're going to have to go through us!" says a trembling Hermione, standing up and taking aim alongside her peers. Fortunately, Kingsley and the twins race along the benches to engage Bellatrix.

"Oh, alright, this should be some fun." She shrieks with laughter while duelling three-on-one, and the odds do seem to be in her favour.

"POTTER!" Now it's Crouch who leaps over a few benches en route towards Harry, although he's soon fired upon by Sirius, Lupin, and Luna.

"Wow, Luna's in the fight too," says Harry, "Yeah, you go, girl."

"If I had a wand, I'd fight again too," says Neville, taking cover nearby.

Minutes of flashes, shouts, and spells pass by in the warzone of a Death Chamber now. Dumbledore and Voldemort soon moving away from the Veil of Death while duelling. Then a burst of orange lights up the chamber as Voldemort sends out a massive wave of cursed fire. Dumbledore, however, manages to dispel it with counterattacks of his own.

Elsewhere, Snape's knockdown of Rabastan and Rodolphus goes deliberately unnoticed by Voldemort. Bellatrix, though, runs across the benches to take on Snape.

"SEVERUS!" she yells, flinging spells which Snape blocks and deflects.

"See?" whispers Hermione to Ron. "I've always said Professor Snape is on our side. How much more proof do you need?"

Blasts of light tear through an entire row of benches as Dumbledore and Voldemort move to one side of the chamber. The latter now conjuring a silver shield to block a spell of tremendous force sent by Dumbledore.

"Blimey!" shouts Ron. "How does one learn to duel like them?"

"Years and years and years and years of experience," says Ginny, after hopping down from the lowest row of benches. She then looks at Harry and smiles. "How are you feeling after all that? Man, even Tom's dad—"

"Like I told Hermione, I don't wanna talk about it," says Harry. "They're all dead, and they're all gone."

"Look at that idiot," scoffs Lavender, as Avery tries to attack Dumbledore. "One second and he's lights out."

The same can be said for Jugson and Mulciber, both of whom are struck by blasts of light. Their wands spinning through the air before Dumbledore grabs and throws them to Kingsley and Moody.

"Hiding won't save you, Potter," says Nott, coming around the corner at the foot of the dias. "Sure, we shouldn't kill you, but we're not forbidden from injuring you."

"Theodore Nott senior, you're just as stupid as your son," says Harry, "Discriminative piece of vagrant-looking rubbish."

"That's his dad?" asks Neville, to which Harry nods.

"Yeah," Harry draws his wand as the nearby students flank him. "You may be an experienced Death Eater, Nott, but we're no slouches. Five on one, scumbag."

"Lucky brats," Nott backs off, but Harry immediately orders the group to attack.

_"STUPEFY!"_

Five D.A.-trained students bring down Nott, who's sent tumbling into a distant row of benches. Emboldened by their numbers, the group fights as one and soon targets Lucius Malfoy.

"Do you really think a bunch of children can beat us? Are you so naive as to fight us when our Lord is present?"

Harry scoffs while nodding at the duel far behind him. "Dumbledore's helping us out while your 'Lord' doesn't give a rat's arse about his own."

Indeed, Voldemort remains fixated upon duelling Dumbledore while the latter occasionally throws up a shield or two for the Order.

"Without Dumbledore you lot are worthless," sneers Malfoy, drawing his wand and non-verbally disarming both Ginny and Lavender.

Both girls groan in frustration. "What?"

"Two can play at that game, Malfoy," Harry has Ron and Hermione take on the senior Malfoy even as the pair are outmatched. Both cast their spells in sync, but are easily read by the Death Eater who disarms Ron before narrowly missing Hermione.

"Magic belongs to those born of magical parents, _Mudblood,_ " sneers Dolohov, leaping down from a row of benches to Harry's right. Before Hermione can get to cover, she ducks beneath a vicious curse that misses her by an inch. The resulting blast, however, knocks her face-first against the edge of a bench.

"Unlucky miss, Death Eater," she taunts. "I'm still standing."

"Filthy blood indeed," laughs Dolohov, though his smirk fades as Malfoy is non-verbally stunned. "Lucky hit, Potter. Getting him while his attention is divided. Now stay focused because this Mudblood's getting _AVADA KEDAVRA_!"

"DUCK, HERMIONE!" yells Sirius nearby, while McGonagall hurries to intervene.

Harry's fury at seeing Dolohov aiming to kill erases all thought but pain from his mind. And as the jet of green soars over the diving Hermione, Harry takes aim.

"Oh no," mutters Sirius beside McGonagall. "Harry, don't do it! Control yourself, Hermione's relatively unharmed—"

_"CRUCIO!"_

For a moment, Dolohov's expression turns to confusion before he crumples to the ground in screams.

McGonagall stops in her tracks, clearly in shock at what she's seeing. "P-POTTER!?"

But Harry doesn't let up, instead he walks forward while staring at the thrashing Death Eater screaming on the ground.

"Someone stop Potter before he lands himself in prison again!" shouts Kingsley, before Bellatrix disengages her duel with Snape to race over and laugh.

"Can't blame him," says a shrugging Bellatrix, standing beside Harry. "The boy's pretty pissed off at the moment. Feed that spell with pure hatred, Potter."

" _Expelliarmus_!" yells Lupin. The jet of red now zips between McGonagall and Sirius before flinging Harry's wand from his grip. Lupin then comes jogging over as McGonagall and Sirius prepare to engage Bellatrix.

"Why'd you disarm the child when he was having fun?" she asks.

"Only you would find the idea of torture fun, Lestrange," mutters Lupin, "I don't know what you've been trying since Azkaban, but it won't work." He swiftly looks at the unarmed Harry. "You sorely need to control yourself, understand? I heard it myself from James earlier, while you were far too focused on your duel, that you're a better person than this. Lily and James wouldn't want their son to resort to Unforgivables, Harry. But they'd rather reprimand Sirius and I, instead of you."

Dolohov picks himself up and hauls a Killing Curse at Harry. The latter's just about to evade before being pulled aside by Bellatrix as she wraps an arm around his shoulder.

"Now, now, Dolohov, we aren't allowed to kill this child."

Snarling in rage, Dolohov cares little for her warning. "Out of my way, Lestrange! Nobody but the Dark Lord himself can put me under that Curse and hope to get away with it."

Harry, meanwhile, looks down and sighs in relief. For his uniform and outer robes do their job in hiding his reaction to being this close to Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Get Lestrange away from Potter!" orders McGonagall, before Dolohov fires a disarming charm at Lupin. Now, both Lupin and Harry's wands spin through the air and are caught by Dolohov, who immediately attempts to snap Harry's one.

"Dolohov..." warns Bellatrix, "That is cowardice, and we are not _Muggles._ "

By now, the Order has already subdued most of the Death Eaters except Crouch, Bellatrix, and Dolohov.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

_"Stupefy!"_

McGonagall and Sirius' spells are swiftly blocked by Bellatrix via one powerful shield charm.

Harry, still held by Bellatrix, swiftly swipes her wand before firing a non-verbal stunner which hits Dolohov squarely in the chest.

"Return my wand this instant, little Potter!" Bellatrix runs after Harry as the latter kicks Dolohov and retrieves both wands, one of which is tossed back to Lupin.

"Here, thanks. Cool wand design, by the way." Harry returns Bellatrix's wand while stepping aside as she prepares to battle McGonagall and Lupin.

"Why'd you do that?" asks Neville nearby. "That was a stupid move, Harry. Stop being so friendly with her!"

"Wizarding honour, Neville."

"Yes, Longbottom, wizarding _honour_ ," mocks Bellatrix, "of which you don't possess, unfortunately."

"Luna, please!" Neville begs his friend for her wand.

"Okay, suit yourself." Luna tosses her wand to Neville before taking cover as Crouch comes in to battle McGonagall, Sirius, and Lupin. Although heavily outmatched, Crouch does put up a fight even while being pushed back.

Meanwhile, Neville ignores Tonks' warnings as he rushes at Bellatrix. "This is for mum and dad, _STUPEFY_!"

_"Protego!"_

"Potter, have you finally lost your mind? Whose side are you on?" asks Snape, hurrying across the benches as Harry shields Bellatrix from Neville's attacks.

_"IMPEDIMENTA_! _EXPELLIARMUS_! Stop it, Harry, stop defending that monster." Neville groans while Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, and Tonks can hardly believe what they're seeing. "I guess the newspapers were right after all!"

Turning to acknowledge Snape nearby, Bellatrix shrugs again. "Potter's quite decent at shield charms, I must say. It's just too bad that no amount of practice can stop his inevitable murder by the Dark Lord."

Elsewhere, across the chamber, Voldemort brings his duel with Dumbledore towards the centre of the room. This now has him approaching Harry, who immediately raises his wand while Bellatrix backs away.

"You've lost, old man," says Voldemort, before disappearing in a wisp of black smoke.

"What?" Moody limps over as fast as he can. "Dumbledore! I thought you put up an Anti-Disapparition Jinx?"

"Voldemort has not performed Disapparition," Dumbledore's voice suddenly lacks its usual calm nature.

"Uh-oh," says Bellatrix, now climbing up the benches with Crouch following suit. "It will not be that simple to battle our Lord now, Dumbledore."

"Foolish old man!" scoffs Crouch, "Too soft to try and throw Killing Curses. Well, look where that's gotten you."

"What the hell are they talking about—"

Ron's words drown out for Harry, who immediately groans in agony. His scar feeling as if it's just split open, and the chamber darkening in his view. It takes all Harry's might to throw up his Occlumency against a red-eyed creature that mentally coils itself around him. In his mind, everything feels black as he locks down his own memories. The struggle culminates in Voldemort being kept out of anything private, though he cares not to peruse the mind of Harry Potter. But the surge of hatred flowing through Harry, amplified by his own previous use of the Dark Arts, grants Voldemort sufficient physical control. As the creature speaks, it's Harry's mouth which moves, and it's Harry's body that picks itself up from kneeling on all fours.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore," says Voldemort, from within the possessed Harry. Gasps of horror echo across the room as Harry's eyes shine a malevolent green. "Come on, old man, now's your chance to defeat Lord Voldemort. Do it, and kill the boy too."

"Oh God, no—"

"Stay back, Granger," warns Dumbledore, sweeping Hermione aside with a wave of his left hand. "Harry, can you hear me? It isn't how you are alike. It's how you are not!"

"Fine then," says Voldemort. "If you refuse to kill, then I shall be the one to strike." He looks down at the wand gripped in his hand. "Stupid old man, and now your tricks have backfired. Yew and Phoenix, a bit shorter than my own but... it'll do. Let's see the tabloids respond to this! ' _Harry Potter trashes the Ministry and attacks the Minister on sight_.' Did you believe Lord Voldemort foolish enough to let himself be seen? Good luck getting the boy out of Azkaban after this, Dumbledore. Bellatrix! Barty! Leave the others and let's go."

"The Atrium, My Lord!" says Bellatrix, "It is the best place to draw our guests' attention should they arrive."

"I don't need your help, Bellatrix. You obey my commands!" Voldemort flicks his wand and swiftly blasts aside Kingsley and Moody.

"GET OUT OF MY GODSON, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" shouts Sirius, raising his wand to a smug Voldemort. "Harry! Fight him off, _please_."

" _Fight him off, please_ ," mocks Voldemort, before blasting Sirius aside with a non-verbal stunner. "Next time, it'll be death for you, Black. Ah, how long has been since I was last in uniform? Brings back memories, eh, Dumbledore?"

"You cannot hope to defeat me using Harry as a hostage, Tom. No offense to him, but he's incapable of harming me." Dumbledore then turns to look at his horrified allies. "Minerva, revive those three. Remus, Tonks, and Severus, round up the unconscious Death Eaters, including Crabbe and Macnair at the lifts."

"The boy is weak but I am not, _Avada Kedavra_!"

The jet of green narrowly misses Dumbledore, who counters with a powerful full body-bind charm that Voldemort blocks.

"Don't hurt him, Professor!" yells a tearful Ginny. "That's... that's still Harry! And here I thought writing blood messages was bad..."

"Look familiar, stupid girl?" asks Voldemort, gesturing to himself. "Oh, yes"—Voldemort leaps aside to evade Dumbledore's non-lethal attacks—"Lucius has told me all about that year. Speaking of which..." He races over to kick the unconscious Malfoy in the side. "How—dare—you—waste—my—possessions!"

"Malfoy's already _unconscious_ , you lunatic!" shouts Ron, before ducking as a jet of green comes his way. "BLOODY HELL!"

"Ron!" screams Lavender, "What's going on!?"

"Harry's being possessed, that's what," replies Ginny. "It's up to him to fight it off now."

Fred and George, who've remained mostly speechless over the past few minutes, now rush down the benches. Their expressions convey utter shock at the sight of Harry. "What sick magic is this?"

Now Neville, although trembling, points Luna's wand at a smug Voldemort who speaks. "Well, come at me, boy. Or do you not wish to exact your anger on Harry Potter? He's been less than utterly hostile towards the woman who wrecked your parents. I would say ' _mummy and daddy misses you, Longbottom_ ,' but they're too insane to even care..."

_"STUPE—"_

"LONGBOTTOM, STAND DOWN!" shouts McGonagall. "I am sorry, Potter, but this has gone on far enough. If you are unable to fend him off then we'll have to step in."

Duelling both Dumbledore and McGonagall causes Voldemort to lash out in frustration. After overwhelming and stunning McGonagall, a momentary surge of madness has Voldemort leaping forward. But instead of running, he flies like smoke on the wind. His face and glasses gleam out from the blackness of smoke as Voldemort flies out the chamber. Two Death Eaters and their master rush towards the circular room before heading down the windowless corridor.

"Can he? Did he just—" Fred doesn't know what to say as Dumbledore has Kingsley and Moody restrain the unconscious Death Eaters.

"I wasn't expecting Voldemort to make use of that technique today," says Dumbledore. "Thought he might be keeping it as a trick up his sleeve, so to speak."

While Dumbledore dispels his Anti-Disapparition Jinx, Voldemort bothers not to await a lift. Instead, he simply flies upward through the shaft and bursts out on Level Eight. Bellatrix and Crouch, however, settle upon riding a lift to the Atrium.

"Dumbledore believes himself so smart," scoffs Voldemort, walking down one end of the Atrium hallway. "Well, let's see him prevent what's to come. Once Harry Potter's been imprisoned for assault on the Ministry and its officials, we'll have him trapped. The dementors will allow me passage to the boy, and then he'll be killed."

"Why not kill Potter now, My Lord?" asks Crouch, "Or Disapparate with him to finish the boy off?"

"After tonight, nobody will dare see Harry Potter as the 'legendary' Boy-Who-Lived. Once I've utterly tarnished his myths, lies, and _heroic_ reputation, then he shall be killed. There will be no more questioning Lord Voldemort's greatness after tonight. And he will pay dearly as well for mocking me at the Veil."

Voldemort blasts open the gates at the security desk while approaching the golden fountain.

"Where is everyone? Severus said the other Aurors were informed of our arrival. Surely they'd bring Fudge along too? It seems the ignorant, naive fool will be of some use once again."

"Perhaps there's a delay, My Lord?" asks Bellatrix, as the trio eagerly await the Ministry officials.

"Oh, there is certainly a delay," says Dumbledore, approaching from the opposite end of the hallway, near the telephone box. It's clear that he's Apparated from Level Nine.

"I'll take him, My Lord!" says Crouch, only seconds before Dumbledore traps both Death Eaters beneath golden statues. Now, Bellatrix lays pinned beneath one at the far left of the Atrium, and Crouch lays trapped far to the right.

Standing in the centre, Voldemort fires a Killing Curse which Dumbledore evades by swift Disapparition. Then, Voldemort glances wildly around and spots Dumbledore behind him. "I detest that silent Apparition of yours, old man. _Avada Kedavra_!"

Now, a golden one-armed centaur gallops to shield Dumbledore from the blast; the statue shattering into hundreds of pieces. A flash of non-lethal red bursts forth yet again from Dumbledore's wand, which Voldemort counters with another jet of green. The unblockable Killing Curse simply soars through the disarming charm, but Dumbledore's already stepped aside.

"Afraid to hurt me, Dumbledore? Do it! Kill the boy!"

"We both know there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," says Dumbledore, calmly deflecting a non-verbal slashing spell from Voldemort. "I am referring to you, of course, in case you mistakenly believe me wanting to harm Harry. Stop this cowardice at once and face me in person; face me like a man."

"You're the coward, Dumbledore, who's too afraid to hurt one foolish student." Voldemort flies onto the fountain's centre and fires an arsenal of spells. Explosions of blue and orange wreck the Atrium's polished flooring as the lifts behind Voldemort open up. "More students coming to watch their Headmaster die? Pathetic. Yes, why not convict Harry Potter of even more murders as well? _Avada Kedavra_!"

"That isn't fair!" gasps Luna, leaping aside as a jet of green zips down the hallway and decimates an empty lift nearby. Seconds later sees Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, McGonagall and Snape arriving from Level Nine. They are then joined by Ginny, the twins, Lavender, and Neville as the hallway fills with onlookers to the duel.

"Death by Harry Potter; how pitifully ironic," says Voldemort, raising his left hand to summon a wave of fiendfyre that is immediately blown outward. The cursed flames swiftly coalesce into an enormous serpent aimed at Dumbledore.

"Don't come any closer. Stay where you are!" warns the Headmaster, brandishing his wand so that the fountain's water flies high into the air.

"Please don't drown him!" shouts Hermione as the possessed Harry is enveloped by a cocoon of water. The suffocating mass soon explodes in all directions by Voldemort, flooding the Atrium's centre.

With a few swipes of Harry's wand, Voldemort tears through the ground to blast shards of tiles at Dumbledore; the latter shielding himself with an immense _Protego_ that obliterates the projectiles on impact.

"Stop your cowardly possession at once!" shouts Hermione, standing metres from Harry.

Voldemort glares from the foot of the fountain while Harry's robes are absolutely soaked. And with another flick of the wand, Voldemort siphons the liquid which he blasts backwards at a shielded Dumbledore.

Ignoring McGonagall's warning, Hermione fires a banishing charm at Voldemort which is effortlessly blocked.

"I suggest you return home and attend a Muggle school where you belong, Mudblood." Voldemort aims to kill but is suddenly unable to get so much as a spell going.

_You're not the only one who can set a trap_ , says Harry in his mind, while his arm lowers to rest at his side. _There is no way you're hurting her._

"NO!" yells Sirius, rushing ahead from the lifts towards his possessed godson.

"Do nothing," orders Dumbledore, "This is Harry's battle now."

"But he's just standing there doing nothing," says Lavender. "He needs help!"

"I've never seen such madness in my entire damn life," says a gasping Tonks, standing protectively before Neville and the rest.

Meanwhile, Harry sees nothing but near total darkness in his mind. The red-eyed serpent remains coiled around him, but its tail end sits atop a shielded collection of Harry's mind.

_Why not just die, Harry? Die, and you'll see your parents again_. _There's no need to endure the hardships of this world._

_What hardships?_ _My life is worth living, unlike yours._

Harry remains stationary as Hermione, and everyone else, observes the silent Slytherin.

_You couldn't save them, Harry, you couldn't save your parents. Too little, and too weak you were. Just like in the graveyard where you couldn't save the girl. People are dying because of you, Harry Potter, and they have died defending you._ _How many more will Dumbledore sacrifice to keep you safe?_

_And how_ _many have you killed tonight?_ __None, because you have been thwarted, Voldemort._ _

Flashes of Hermione laying petrified in the Hospital Wing pour into Harry's mind, eliciting roars of pain from the red-eyed creature.

_You'll never know friendship or love, and I almost feel sorry for you. Almost._

More images flash by... memories of Harry walking away from the Slytherin table as Hermione sprints down the aisle. She's healed, she's fine, and she grabs him into a hug that nearly knocks him down. Darkness turns to light as Harry hauls himself towards the front of the fountain.  Meanwhile, Dumbledore casts a spell which causes two golden statues (a House Elf and a Goblin) to floo away through a distant fireplace.

Through force of will and emotion, Harry both expels Voldemort and shatters the countless windows of the Atrium. Black smoke spills out from within Harry, and shards of glass rain down before being Transfigured to sand by Dumbledore. Finally, Harry topples over onto his back and grins at the huge shredded poster of Cornelius Fudge dangling far above. But there's little time for laughter as he reaches out to grab his wand laying at his side.

"You're out of time," mutters Harry, taking aim at Voldemort standing over him.

"You're a fool, Harry Potter, and you will lose everything—"

Flashes of green glimmer against what little polished tiles remain. Various fireplaces, lining the hallway's left, soon light up as footsteps can be heard. And Harry now smiles upon seeing Voldemort's expression.

"My Lord," calls Bellatrix, "We need to leave right now!"

"Do not let them see us, My Lord!" says Crouch.

_Pick one, you fool,_ says Harry in his mind, even though Voldemort can no longer hear his thoughts. _There's no time for taking both._

Seconds later, Fudge's gasp comes loud and clear as Voldemort Disapparates with a follower. Harry now sits up into the arms of Hermione while turning to look at the Minister. Fudge, dressed in pyjamas beneath his pinstriped cloak, appears both frightened and dishevelled.

"H-He's back!"

"I saw him, Minister!" shouts the Auror named Williamson, "Over there, right by that golden debris. He grabbed a man and Disapparated!"

"WHAT THE HELL?" another Auror can be heard shouting from one side of the Atrium. "Look here, right in the Ministry of Magic itself... _Bellatrix Lestrange_."

"I want to see Bella's face," whispers Harry, as Hermione helps him to his feet. "It's now _fifteen_ years plus more, shame."

Three Aurors disarm a half-shocked, half-confused Bellatrix before blasting the statue off of her. The Death Eater being hauled onto her feet while her arms are magically restrained.

"Obviously, there'll be no trial," says Williamson, "Straight into Azkaban with this one." Then he spots Harry racing over towards him as the Atrium continues to fill with witches and wizards. "I suppose we all owe you an—"

"I don't give a rat's arse what you and your Aurors think, Williamson," says Harry, "What's going to happen to her?"

"She'll rot in jail, that's what," says another Auror, Dawlish. "Anything you'd like to say to her now that You-Know-Who has fled the scene?"

"Don't talk tough," says Harry to the Aurors, "Dumbledore and I were the ones who fought Voldemort off." He looks at Bellatrix while expecting to be yelled at for using the Dark Lord's name. But she simply remains scowling. "Don't hurt Bellatrix—"

"I don't need your pity, Potter."

"If anything," says Harry to the Aurors, "go downstairs and dump people like Theodore Nott Sr. or Antonin Dolohov's arses into those cells. They're all rounded up by now."

While Bellatrix is hurried away by the Aurors, Harry looks to see Hermione standing beside him with her back to the growing crowd.

"How could Voldemort have taken possession of you so easily? I... I thought you've been practicing your Occlumency this year?"

"My thoughts precisely," says a livid Snape, approaching from Harry's left. "Have I wasted my time with those sessions? You've made zero effort to throw off the Dark Lord! How much has he seen in your incompetent head?"

"Nothing at all, really," says Harry. "I let him take over even while using every bit of Occlumency I could."

"And why would you do such a foolish thing?" asks Snape.

"Because I knew he wasn't thinking 100% straight. After Riddle Sr. unsettled his son, I could feel Voldemort's fury in my scar. He wasn't so much out for the prophecy anymore; it was then revenge for me somehow messing up the Priori Incantatem. I'm sure you can guess that Riddle Sr. wasn't supposed to emerge then, or at all really. The Veil of Death did some interference with the dead."

"But that still doesn't answer why you let him risk all of our lives by possessing you?" asks Hermione.

"He wasn't in complete control... more like 90% for most of the time. I played on his anger and slight humiliation, you see. I pushed him to the point of using that technique." Harry now lowers his voice so that only Snape and Hermione can hear. "The flying thing, remember? The same thing Professor Snape over here used years back."

"Don't tell me you wished to learn it?" asks Snape. "There is no way a mere student can hope to master such an advanced class of unregistered magic."

"You're right, sir, I haven't learned it at all. But, after getting the feel of it from Voldemort's use, perhaps it's a head start?"

"Ron almost got killed, Harry, and Luna as well! Were you aware of all that?" asks Hermione.

"I'm sorry, but trust me when I say that I tried to skew Voldemort's aim in those cases."

A tense few seconds pass by as Snape appears quite thoughtful. "Terribly risky tactics, Potter, but understandable. Are you truly _that_ desperate to destroy the Dark Lord? Unsupported flight might confer only a minimal advantage to you, should you even grasp the basics of it."

"But, if Voldemort and I are to meet in battle again, he'll have the superior mobility. One of these days, Voldemort might find a way to bypass the wand connection and then what? I can't simply Disapparate away."

"Give me one reason why I should be foolish enough to teach you such a technique? None of the others are capable of flying the way we do. Surely it has come to your attention that to spread the Dark Lord's secrets is to utterly annihilate his trust in me?"

"I promise not to use that technique at all until absolutely necessary. I'll never just show it off at your expense. Voldemort definitely hates and fears Professor Dumbledore, sir. That, I pretty much felt when he possessed me. You could alert him that Professor Dumbledore has discovered your trick and forced you to teach it to me."

"There is far too much uncertainty in the air, figuratively speaking, now, Potter. Let us first wait until this bureaucratic nightmare is sorted out."

"If flying can bring me one little step closer to someday beating Voldemort, then I'll take it, Professor. I will do anything to rid the world of Voldemort, _anything_."

Hermione worriedly looks at Harry. "I have a lot of faith in you, Harry, but you're still only _fifteen_. I really doubt that flying would make a difference against someone with decades more experience and skill than you. Fighting Voldemort again and again is eventually going to be like suicide or something."

Harry spots Snape walking away as the latter seeks to quietly address Dumbledore. "Enough about me, are you alright?"

Hermione's response comes in the form of a slow, warm hug. Both students uncaring for anyone looking on as they're pressed tightly against each other. "You're freezing cold, Harry, even after Voldemort siphoned these robes."

"Warm me up then."

Sirius comes running over with Tonks behind him. "Harry! Oh, let us not interrupt."

"Let us do interrupt," says Tonks, joining in the embrace which soon grows as Sirius joins in. "What happened there, Harry? How could he just come and take you over like that!?"

"How could I ever live with myself if we lost you right after Lily and James came out?" asks Sirius. "There's nothing funny about that at all!"

More people crowd around Harry: some students, others adults. All those who've witnessed Harry's possession are soon called aside by him for a huddled talk behind the wrecked fountain.

"H-How will I ever explain what happened here?" asks Lavender, "You-Know-Who, he just... I don't even know where to begin."

"Perhaps we should avoid mentioning this to others," says Luna. "Well, I certainly will not be telling everyone about Harry's suffering."

"Yeah," says Ron, "Even Fred and George know better than to go around spreading this story, right?"

"Of course," says Fred.

"Absolutely," adds George.

"I'm sorry I almost attacked you, Harry," says Neville, "But you made a serious miscalculation on Bellatrix Lestrange down there."

Everyone soon pledges their agreement to avoid letting the finer details of tonight slip. And, eventually, the group disperses to leave Harry and Ginny alone at the fountain.

"Unfair," he says, shaking his head. "Why weren't you my knight in shining armour to save me from Tom's possession? Next time you run around with dead roosters scribbling messages, I'm not coming to help."

"You think that's funny? Do you know how horrifying it is to 'wake up' covered in blood with no memory of what you did?"

"Do you know how horrifying it is to take a back seat watching your own self trying to kill?" Harry's expression turns to a smile. "But of course the Boy-Who-Lived had everything under control since I let Tom take over. Then, in the end, I gave him such a sheer onslaught of agony."

"I wish I could've done the same," sighs Ginny, before Harry places a hand on her shoulder.

"You don't share a cursed connection like I do. This is probably beyond simple mind-reading and stuff... I just can't believe how... never mind."

Ginny eyes him curiously now. "What? Don't leave me hanging mid-sentence!"

"I can't believe how simple it was to employ Occlumency and sit back. The pain was _terrible_ , don't get me wrong, but I just felt strange when Voldemort was in my head. I can't explain it and, thankfully, he never cared to pay attention too," says Harry, walking around the fountain before stopping in his tracks. "Oh, great, here comes the rush of newspapers..."

"I can chase them away, if you'd like," says Ginny, as Harry sits on the base of the fountain. His expression turning to a smirk while many reporters circle around him.

"No, it's fine," says Harry to Ginny, "Leave me be and go spend some quality time with the others. Everyone wants a piece of Harry Potter these days." Just as Ginny turns to leave, Harry speaks. "I think we deserve a little fun, right? Let's take back the Quidditch Cup from those sons of bitches."

"Quidditch?" gasps Ginny. "Oh my gosh, seriously? You're talking about that now, and _here_ of all places? Look at what's happened to the entire Atrium, Harry."

"This place was always a dump, just a lot shinier before," mutters Harry, sitting with his elbows on knees. Flashes of white soon fill the surrounding area as photographers get into position. Reporters draw their quills and parchment as they stand ready to take notes.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Can you tell us what exactly happened here?"

"How'd the Atrium get battered this much?"

"Have you really battled alongside Albus Dumbledore against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and those Death Eaters found below?"

"Why was all the commotion in Level Nine? What was being sought in the Department of Mysteries, Mr. Potter?"

"I would appreciate it if Harry's no longer being swarmed, thank you," says Dumbledore, whose presence parts the shocked crowd. He then takes a seat on the fountain beside a smiling Harry. "Professor Snape had some rather interesting news to tell. You played a dangerous game there, Harry, but commendable, nonetheless."

Harry, meanwhile, lets out a soft laugh as his annoyed Head of House is approached by a reporter nearby.

"Mister Severus Snape. How does it feel to have fought against your former allies? Do you fear retribution from You-Know-Who?"

"Excuse me for a moment, Professor," Harry hops up before hurrying over to stand before Snape, for the reporter's own safety.

"Mr. Potter!" says the reporter, turning his attention to Harry as Snape hurriedly walks down the hallway. "What happened here?"

"Professor Dumbledore and I led the fight against Lord Voldemort, that's what. He came to plunder something, but we stopped him and captured plenty of his followers. Now, please excuse me as I return to my Headmaster."

"Ah, Severus never was one for noisy crowds," says Dumbledore, as Harry sits beside him again. "Good thinking there, Harry."

"Professor, about the prophecy..."

"That record may be broken, but I'll explain its origins in my office later tonight. In fact, I've figured that there are quite a few things you should be told."

"But Voldemort's still out there, and ready to attack my mind again—"

"No," says Dumbledore calmly, "After what happened here tonight, between the two of you, I daresay it will be Voldemort going on the defensive with Occlumency. I've taken a big risk with you this year, Harry, and I'm glad to see that you've exceeded my expectations."

The smile on Harry's face grows even wider as he spots a still horrified Fudge hurrying across the Atrium. His attention focused on many things, including the lifts far behind Harry as the Death Eaters are taken into custody.

"I DO SAY!" yells Fudge, nearly tripping backwards as his slippers are caught in a gash along the ground. " _Lucius!_? Is that you? And Macnair too! But..."

"Idiot," scoffs Malfoy, while almost dragged along between Kingsley and another Auror. "I have nothing to say to you." He then turns to glance towards the fountain. "POTTER! THIS IS ALL YOUR F—"

" _Silencio_!" yells a laughing Sirius, happily assisting with the rounding up. "It's about time that lying blabber-hole of yours got shut up. Enjoy your stay in Azkaban, Lucius. Oh, shame, there goes his perfectly sleek hair behind bars soon. You alright, Harry?"

Gesturing a thumbs up, Harry beams before pointing towards Fudge. The latter hurrying from one Auror or Ministry worker to another in a rather shambolic manner. "I WARNED YOU, MINISTER, NEVER FORGET THAT!" shouts Harry, causing Fudge to almost jump on the spot while he does his utmost best to avoid Harry.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, takes to politely being as vague as possible to any incoming reporter. "Yes, that is correct. Lord Voldemort has certainly returned. Yes, Harry Potter has put up a tremendous fight against Voldemort. Yes, so did I as well, although it was Harry who first engaged him. No, no, of course Harry wasn't terrified. In fact, he's one of the bravest men standing here today. No, I do not believe he'll face any charges for breach of underage magic use. Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort certainly do count as life-threatening circumstances, of course."

All Harry can do now is sit back and bask in the feeling of being free once more. But the school year's far from over for him as he begins planning out his return, and there'll definitely be some truly hostile reactions. If anything, he knows that Malfoy and Nott will be chief among the outrage. But Harry now smiles upon picturing the many shocked expressions when he, the King of Slytherin, steps out to lead the charge for Team Gryffindor.

"Happy Easter, sir," he says, as Dumbledore walks past.

"Happy Easter, Harry. Feel free to stay awhile or return to my office later tonight."


	25. The Chosen One

 

_Sunday, April 7th, 1996, 01h00_.

It's been two hours since Voldemort's escape from the Ministry of Magic, and a triumphant thrill remains burning within Harry. He feels as lively as ever, regardless of sitting here in the early hours of the morning awaiting Dumbledore's arrival. Minutes pass by before the Headmaster finally floos back into his office, arriving amidst flames of green.

"Thank you," says Dumbledore, after receiving applause from many a portrait. He then takes a seat behind his desk to face Harry. "In light of recent events, Cornelius Fudge is preparing to step down as Minister of Magic. The Wizengamot has also reached a unanimous decision to revoke your expulsion status."

Harry scoffs. "How does that even make sense from their point of view? Aren't they under the impression that I've been sitting all year with the Dursleys? What's the point of letting a supposedly ignorant fifth-year return six weeks before the O.W.L. exams?"

"Think about the impression you'd make by passing your O.W.L.s with such an absurdly short time for preparation. Their guess is that you've been trying to study while at the Dursleys. Of course, this gives them the impression that you have zero practical experience other than duelling..."

"And yet, this 'ignorant fifteen year old' held off Lord Voldemort," says Harry. "I suppose I'll be needing to cram it out with the practicals from tomorrow onwards. How's everyone doing after last night's showdown?"

"Could be worse," says Dumbledore, "I had to convince Mrs. Weasley to let her children gain experience alongside us. I daresay they've been useful on the battlefield; more numbers meant a greater distraction for Voldemort's group."

"How's Neville doing, sir? And I'm not talking about his physical injuries."

"Ah," Dumbledore pauses for thought before continuing, "That is a good question. On the one hand, he's fairly excited to be getting his own wand, seeing as Augusta Longbottom has finally taken pride in her grandson. On the other hand, though, neither of them can fathom your actions as reported by Neville to his grandmother this morning. What happened out there between you and Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry?"

The office remains a shade of blue from the early morning sky, and Harry's smile can be seen through the dim candlelight. "If I told you, sir, you'd think me absolutely insane."

"No, I wouldn't."

Harry shifts in his seat before responding. "My whole family is dead save for the Dursleys... But now that Sirius has come into my life, I just feel the need to, I dunno—"

"Strengthen the Black family?" asks the portrait of Phineas Nigellus nearby. "A very noble cause, young Potter, but a very foolish one if you think _Bellatrix_ to be redeemable."

"Everyone is capable of change, Phineas," says Dumbledore.

"If what Mr. Potter has been saying before your arrival is correct, Dumbledore, then Bellatrix would never leave her Master's side. Now that the Dark Lord has been exposed, my deranged descendant would certainly grovel at his feet even further. She would beg forgiveness for failing her mission."

"Or," says Harry, "she's secretly feeling betrayed at being left behind for Azkaban. Fifteen years of devoted waiting, then she gets out for a good few months only to be abandoned for Crouch Jr. Everyone has their limits, including your so-called 'deranged descendant', Professor Black."

"But Azkaban would be a walk in the park for her now, seeing as the dementors are on the Dark Lord's side. They'll either abandon the prison or give the Death Eaters an easier stay," says Phineas.

"Nothing you say will make me hate Bellatrix," says Harry.

"If you're that dedicated to strengthening this family line," says Phineas, "then rather watch my, perhaps-not-entirely-worthless, great-great-grandson's back. He's reckless and nearly got both of you killed with his 'clever scheme'."

"Thank you, Phineas," says Dumbledore, before turning to address Harry. "You may have heard some of this before, but allow me to offer you a more complete explanation. I guessed, fifteen years ago, that your scar might be a potential connection between you and Voldemort. It soon became apparent that my guess was correct, as they usually tend to be. That scar had given you warnings whenever Voldemort was close to you, or whenever he felt powerful emotions."

"I'm listening," says Harry, leaning back and folding his arms. "It's become more pronounced since the graveyard, right?"

"Exactly, now that Voldemort has returned to his own body, with his full powers, that connection is as potent as ever. More recently, however, is the question of when Voldemort might have discovered this connection between the two of you."

Harry furrows his brows before rubbing his chin. "Hmm, it could have been the night I saw Nagini attack Mr. Weasley. You said it was more than just a simple case of using Occlumency to block."

"That I did, and I stand by what I've said before. From that moment on, your dreams of the windowless corridor had escalated, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then Voldemort was leading you on in the hopes of going to the Department of Mysteries." Dumbledore smiles before carrying on. "Of course, he was operating at a slow pace; gradually goading you while finalizing his plans for an ambush."

"And what a reversal last night turned out to be," mutters Harry.

"But you already know all this, including why I've initially planned on minimising contact with you throughout the year."

"I was a risk," says Harry, "even with my Occlumency efforts."

"I could not, however, choose to ignore you after everything that's transpired since the Triwizard Tournament. Call it a mixture of caution and common sense, if you'd like."

"There was no need to think I'd break down in despair from everything that's happened thus far, sir. Nobody, and nothing, breaks me."

"You were closer to despair than you'd admit, and that is why Miss Granger took it upon herself to care for you. Few people can say that they're surrounded by as much affection as you are, Harry. I almost pity Voldemort for the stark contrast he'd no doubt experienced inside your mind. You do know that I'd strongly advise against using the Unforgivables, correct?"

"Sorry, sir, I couldn't help it."

"But for Voldemort to have gone from such hatred in your mind to such pure love and affection... It's like night and day, and that is why I believe he will never attempt to possess you again."

"He probably thinks me an advanced Legilimens or something, given how I lured him into a sense of control. Is that why you said he'll be the one employing Occlumency now?" asks Harry, after sitting upright in his seat.

"Yes, especially considering the consequences of leaving your connection unguarded. Once again, he fails to understand that which he deems irrelevant. Voldemort fails to understand the importance of love and affection. The same force which drove Lily to sacrifice herself for your survival. Love is the power that Voldemort knows not."

"What about last night's Priori Incantatem?" asks Harry.

"I was quite surprised to see a glaring error in the reversal of Voldemort's victims. Tom Riddle, his father, was not supposed to be there at all. Never mind the point at which he'd emerged from the wand."

"Alyssa guessed that it was the Veil of Death which played some role in that. She said her uncle didn't wish to let himself be seen, probably to avoid us telling his wife about his fate."

"And so they had... swapped?" asks Dumbledore, noting the look of triumph on Harry's face. "Yes, I am asking you a question now, Harry. Death is a subject of much mystery, even in the wizarding world."

"That's what Alyssa had said too, yes. She also mentioned something about Voldemort killing his father with a different wand."

"That's exactly what we'll be discussing in the near future. You see, I've obtained quite a collection of memories over the years, all of them connecting to Tom Marvolo Riddle in some way."

"Can we view them now, sir?"

"Patience, there will come a time for all that. Right now, your O.W.L.s take priority." Dumbledore stands up from his seat. "It seems you've overlooked something, Harry. Surely you'd like to inquire about the prophecy?"

"I was hoping you'd know what it said."

"And I certainly do," says Dumbledore, "But have you ever wondered why exactly Voldemort targeted your family? Why he chose to kill you? It's because of the very same prophecy you both sought out last night. Voldemort, however, had only heard half of it. You see, it was Professor Trelawney herself who went into one of her trance-like recitals." Dumbledore proceeds to inform Harry of Trelawney's interview at the Hog's Head; though he omits the part about Snape being the eavesdropper, which Harry's unaware of.

"So he wanted to hear it in full, after all this time?" asks Harry.

"Exactly, and that was the bulk of his plans since his 'rebirth'. You're an uncertainty in his eyes, and Voldemort never liked uncertainties; with the exception of things he deems irrelevant You, however, are clearly something he'd rather not overlook again." Dumbledore approaches his Pensieve where a memory of Trelawney's recital is soon played.

Once finished, Harry's expression remains thoughtful. They now discuss what the prophecy might have meant, and that Neville was another potential candidate for Voldemort's attack.

"So why'd he choose me, specifically? Why couldn't he have gone after Neville? Why the hell was it my parents who were murdered!?"

"Harry, calm down, you're overthinking this whole scenario. Voldemort would never have gone after Neville Longbottom first. Tom Marvolo Riddle identified far more with you, the Half-Blood, than a Pureblood child."

Harry lets out a lengthy groan. "That... makes sense, I suppose."

"Right," says Dumbledore, "And coming back to what I've said earlier, love is the power that Voldemort knows not. He could have turned around when Lily pleaded to have you spared. But from that day on, you were marked as Voldemort's equal; by his own hand. Had he heard the complete prophecy, well, I cannot be sure of how events would have transpired thereafter."

"About the end of the prophecy..." Harry stands up from his seat. "How exactly am I going to kill a man who's got so much more experience than me? We can't even duel without triggering a reaction of our wands. I don't like to say this in front of others but... it's just been luck so far. Hermione's right that duelling Voldemort would be like suicide."

"You will find out when the time is right," says Dumbledore, "It'd be best not to dwell on such thoughts now. Not when there are O.W.L. exams that are certain to affect your future, and especially not after this arduous year you've endured."

"Then I'll wait," says Harry, "and when the 'time is right' I'll do whatever it takes to put down that rabid animal."

Dumbledore's expression saddens a fair bit. "You've grown into a very mature man, Harry, and it's a true shame that events have conspired against you. That is why I feel that you should have been a Prefect, especially considering how well you've handled your responsibilities this year."

"The only way I can become a Prefect is to fail my O.W.L.s and restart fifth year. But that'd break my friends' hearts, especially Hermione's." Harry looks to the floor and sighs. "I can't bear to disappoint her after everything we've been through."

"It's past two o'clock already," says a misty-eyed Dumbledore, "I'd suggest getting some rest for what could be an eventful day ahead."

Harry grabs his Invisibility Cloak from a nearby table before exiting Dumbledore's Office. No matter what, he simply cannot bring himself to feel sleepy. The thrill of last night keeps him wide awake en route to the Room of Requirement. Regardless of it being exposed, Harry reuses the D.A. area before entering the bedroom at the far rear wall. Nobody would be patrolling around this time of the night, and none would suspect anyone of taking shelter in this room now.

By the time Harry wakes up, his watch shows that it's just after half past nine. He smiles, knowing that many students have remained at school for this Easter holidays. Then he gets cleaned and has breakfast before exiting the Room of Requirement. Many corridors and staircases remain empty, though, as everyone's still in the Great Hall. Eventually, Harry stands on the marble steps of the entrance hall; looking around, he then spots Umbridge's Educational Decrees hanging about.

"To hell with this rubbish, _Bombarda_!"

The loud explosion causes quite a stir in the Great Hall, as students are told to remain calm. Minutes later sees Umbridge hurrying out to find the cause of the commotion.

"What? Who's responsible for this destruction?" she asks, standing in the midst of many scattered Educational Decrees.

"That would be me, Professor," says Harry, causing Umbridge to turn wildly on the spot. Her expression a mix of surprise, anger, and fear. "Have you seen this morning's paper? I haven't, though, but I can assume your time here is up. There's no denying the fact that Voldemort and some Death Eaters invaded your precious Ministry."

"I don't know what trickery you have done to get Cornelius to resign—"

"There is no trickery, there is only the truth," Harry descends the steps to stand face-to-face with Umbridge. "Like you've scarred my friend's hand: _I must not tell lies,_ correct?"

"Act smug now, Potter, for this is a temporary victory," Umbridge folds her arms while smiling. "Who needs Cornelius, anyway? The world of politics is beyond your understanding, child. Even should you try and show what I did to the Mudblood's hand; the Ministry values me far too much to care. Nothing will happen, and that is the reality of life. By all means, assault me now if you'd like, _hero._ "

She may be an annoying toad of a woman, but Umbridge's words reek of the truth. Unwilling to tarnish his own image, Harry forcibly remains calm. "So, who's next in line to succeed Fudge?"

"That would be Rufus Scrimgeour," says Umbridge, "He's a hardhead, 'proactive Head of the Aurors' and all that. But at the end of the day, he's still a politician. So, enjoy your recompense from the dimwit Cornelius using Ministry coffers, Potter. I, however, shall be taking leave and awaiting Rufus' letter of confirmation. That is to confirm me continuing my duties as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."

"I'd suggest leaving now," says Harry, playing the same game as Umbridge by faking a smile. "Before the ridicule hits you."

Umbridge gives Harry an appraising look, as if trying to judge the boy she's hardly known. As she turns around to re-enter the Great Hall, Harry swiftly adds: "You're going to end up just like Fudge, you know. Content and secure in your position until true justice wins out. People like you, well, they get a little _too comfortable_ ," Harry shakes his head while smiling. "It's only a matter of time until you do something so stupid that it'll cost you everything."

"Wishful thinking, Mr. Potter, but I know how to play the game."

"One day the game is going to play you, and when that happens... I'll be there. You _will_ slip up, mark my words," says Harry, letting Umbridge push open the double doors to return to her breakfast. To his surprise, it's only minutes until the Great Hall goes silent for an announcement. Harry, who remains standing in the entrance hall, overhears Umbridge addressing the room.

"Students and staff, it has been a privilege to teach and guide this school—" She pauses as the Great Hall erupts into jeers, boos, and chants of 'QUIT!' "—through a tumultuous year of uncertainty. But, now that events have revealed a certain wizard's return, I believe there is much work to be done at the Ministry. Therefore, in the interest of preserving our governing body and guiding us forward; I, Dolores Jane Umbridge, hereby announce my resignation as Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

While the Great Hall erupts into jeers and laughter, Harry finds himself approached by Professor Dumbledore.

"I must admit that this has been a slight surprise," he says, before Harry smiles.

"Part of me wants to humiliate her for all she's done. I'm in no way forgiving this evil woman, but neither am I going to waste my efforts on a fruitless task. It's like Uncle Vernon used to say, 'you gotta play the game to win the game.' Humiliating and going after Umbridge now would be a short term bit of fun. But, in the long run, she's bound to slip up, and that'll be the start of my revenge."

"How do you propose Dolores Umbridge might 'slip up'?" asks Dumbledore, even though Harry reckons he's got speculations of his own.

"She'll get even more cosier in her post over time. I can't be too sure of what's to come, but people like _her_ , well... they do slip up. I just know there's going to come something that will put her in her place. So, I'll wait."

The Great Hall's doors soon open as Umbridge walks out. She barely acknowledges Dumbledore or Harry while climbing the marble steps. Neither does she care for a most disappointed and praising Filch on the grand staircase.

"I expect that she'll be clearing her office and using the floo network to return to the Ministry," says Dumbledore. "Then I'll have that fireplace disconnected like the rest of the school." He now turns to smile at Harry. "I have a pleasant surprise for you, and for everyone else. Let's give them a few minutes to arrive, shall we?"

"What surprise?" asks Harry.

"Wait and see."

Fifteen minutes pass by before the castle's entrance doors open up, and Harry gasps as Lupin, Moody, and Tonks happily enter.

"Wotcher, little big hero Dark Lord fighter!"

"Potter," greets Moody. "It's good to see you, hard lad."

"Hello, Harry! Meet your substitute Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers until the exams," says Lupin. "That'll be the three of us, of course. Gotta reverse the damage wrought across your curriculum by the Ministry. Oh, and before you ask, we've got the 'cycles' covered."

"Yeah," adds Tonks, "We'll be teaching together, or sometimes two of us, or just one. That ought to give Remus over here ample opportunity to stay away when it's, well, you know..."

As ecstatic as Harry appears, he's equally concerned too. "But, wait, isn't the position—"

"Jinxed?" asks Dumbledore. "Professors Lupin and Moody had previously quit, yes, but they're relatively unharmed."

"No curse or jinx can stop me from showing you young sponges of knowledge what's what!" says Tonks, her hair a lovely shade of purple. "Besides, we'll only be around for under three months. Gonna be a real cram-fest, though, so let's hope you can all keep up."

"And before you ask," says Lupin, "Sirius is busy at the Ministry. Yep, we've sent him to deliver Dumbledore's letter regarding Hogwarts and Hogsmeade's Auror patrols. There needs to be around a handful of Aurors here, at least. But, hey, that's Tonks' department, literally."

Harry opens his mouth to speak but then stops. All he can do is stand and beam with a smile at the older trio before him.

"I think we've left him speechless," says Tonks, "Aren't you starving, Harry? Or have you already had breakfast? Or... should I sit you right beside me and dish your food in front of everyone?"

"Very funny; the House Elves got me sorted with food elsewhere already," he responds, "So, um, shall we enter the Great Hall?"

"Let the Headmaster lead the way," replies Tonks, before Dumbledore steps through the double doors. As expected, many students show their relief with loud cheers and applause. Then comes a moment of bemused silence as Lupin, Moody and Tonks file into the Great Hall. Harry, meanwhile, stands in the doorway; mostly unnoticed as everyone eyes Dumbledore standing at his owl lectern.

"The very best of mornings to you all!" he greets, grinning while opening his arms wide. "Firstly, I'd like to wish each and every one of you gathered here today a Happy Easter. This, of course, extends to our few students who've chosen to spend the holidays in the company of their families. Yes, we must never forget the importance of our loved ones. And here, at Hogwarts, we must stand together in the face of adversity."

Dumbledore now gestures towards the three arrivals who've taken their seats at the staff table. Lupin and Moody sit near Hagrid while Tonks sits herself beside a most pleased Professor Sprout.

"Allow me to introduce, and reintroduce, our Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers who'll be taking you until the end of the school year. Please give a warm welcome to Professors Lupin, Moody, and the lovely Miss Nymphadora Tonks."

Most of the Great Hall, with the exception of the pro-Umbridge Slytherin minority, gives a loud round of applause. To Harry's relief, the general public still remains unaware of Lupin's condition. A fact that has the Professor appearing noticeably relieved as well.

"As everyone in this Hall now knows, Lord Voldemort had indeed been sighted in the Ministry of Magic. I am sure you have all perused through your newspapers, and are deeply concerned over these revelations. These are dangerous times we live in, and I cannot emphasize that strongly enough. Each of us are obliged to care for ourselves in addition to our fellow staff and students. In light of recent events, the castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the past few hours."

Dumbledore sweeps his gaze over the silent crowd before continuing:

"Carelessness remains a prominent threat; I must, therefore, urge you to abide by any security restrictions imposed by your teachers. It is of paramount importance that you remain within the castle after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside this castle, to report it to a member of the staff immediately. The Ministry is also preparing to station some of their Aurors in and around this school, as well as Hogsmeade."

He observes the frightened crowd before carrying on with his speech.

"But, let us not refrain ourselves from enjoying these holidays. Hogwarts is as safe a home as there'll ever be. Now then, just a few announcements: Curfew for all students is now at sunset, regardless of your year. Also, I'm pleased to announce the reinstatement of Madam Hooch as both Flying Instructor and our Quidditch Referee. Speaking of which, I believe we are all in favour of a rematch, correct? Gryffindor against Slytherin will take place on the second Saturday of May. The Quidditch Cup will be up for grabs once more, and all points from the previous final are hereby nullified."

Just over a quarter of the Slytherin table erupts into loud protests. Their boos, jeers, and yells of 'UNFAIR!' are simply smiled at by Dumbledore. Meanwhile, the rest of the school applauds his decision while various Slytherins discreetly seem in favour as well.

"That will be all, thank you. Oh, and should any of you happen to spot Mr. Harry Potter in or around the school, please refrain from bombarding him with questions."

Harry remains seated on the marble steps for over half an hour until students start trickling out of the Great Hall. Some appear to be familiar faces while others are relatively unknown to him. All, however, stand and gape at the Boy-Who-Lived blasting away Umbridge's Educational Decrees.

"What the hell is causing that racket? Why's nobody stopping whoever that is—" Draco Malfoy barges through the crowd of ten gathered outside the Great Hall. Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle soon flank him as they spot Harry, who's dressed in uniform.

"Don't look at me like that," says Harry, holding his wand upright for the group to behold. "Like it? I think it's pretty tough. Why not ask your daddy what happened when I duelled the Dark Lord? Oh, wait, daddy's in jail."

"He'll be out soon," says Malfoy, his tone laced with fury. "The dementors have abandoned Azkaban; you can't land my father in prison..."

"You're dead, Potter," says Nott, drawing his wand alongside his peers. "We're going to make you pay for what you did to our fathers." He looks around, checking to see if any member of the staff is within sight. "Think you're a big man now, eh? Headmaster and the Headmaster's pet come running back into school? Absolutely pathetic!"

"Come at me then," says Harry, opening his arms wide while standing on the marble steps. "I duelled Lord Voldemort! You losers are nothing compared to that. I blocked spells from your daddy dearest deceptive Death Eaters. Dunno where your father was, though, Goyle. Probably wasn't even considered to attack the Ministry."

"Let's get Potter!" says Goyle, while the crowd at the door try to barge their way back into the Great Hall.

"Quickly," adds Crabbe, "Nobody from the teachers is looking!"

" _Petrificus Totalus_!" shouts Nott.

" _Stupefy_!" adds Goyle.

" _Furnunculus_!" yells Crabbe.

" _Locomotor Mortis_!" says Malfoy.

" _Protego_!" Harry blocks their attacks before speaking. "The problem is, you're messing with the wrong Slytherin." He sprints past the group before exiting the castle. "Let's take this in the courtyard, bitches!"

More students hurry out the Great Hall to view the commotion as Malfoy's group races out the front doors. At this point, Harry spots a few D.A. members angrily drawing their wands. Soon, a battle ensues with Malfoy's group taking on the Patils, Terry Boot, and Ernie Macmillan.

"No Inquisitorial Squad anymore, eh?" asks Ernie. "Deduct points for this, _Expelliarmus_!"

" _Depulso_!" adds Padma. "Been waiting to get these brats all year."

Back and forth goes the action until two seventh-year Slytherins, Fawley and Rowle, reinforce Malfoy's group. They immediately take to casting non-verbal spells which catch the Patils, Terry, and Ernie, off-guard. Now it's six-on-one before Harry sees his Slytherin girls exiting the doors. Then comes more students and, finally, a few teachers.

"You're going to pay for humiliating their fathers, Potter," says the burly Fawley.

"Their dads humiliated themselves last night," replies Harry, standing in the centre of the courtyard.

"What is going on out here?" asks Professor Flitwick. "Put those wands away at once—"

"You're not so tough, Potter!" The seventh-year pair ignore Flitwick as they cast non-verbal stunners at Harry, who deflects them with a non-verbal shield charm.

"What makes you think I'm scared of a bunch of losers like you? Seventh year my arse! I can do that too, you know." He grins before swiftly firing a non-verbal disarming charm that catches Fawley off-guard. Then comes a non-verbal banishing charm which knocks back Rowle, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"What the heck, Harry?" asks Parvati. "Where'd you learn to do all _that_?"

"Yeah, man!" adds Terry. "How'd you manage non-verbal casting? That's N.E.W.T. level stuff."

"I fought Lord Voldemort, so this is absolutely nothing," says Harry, enjoying the expressions on many a student's (and Flitwick's) face. "Come on, daddy's boys, you spoke so tough earlier."

"He's trying to attack us, Professor!" says Malfoy, although Flitwick immediately reprimands Harry's attackers.

"As far as I'm aware, Mr. Malfoy, your group tried to attack Mr. Potter."

"Deduct points, sir!" says Harry, earning himself an open-mouthed look from Ernie.

"They're in your House, remember? The heck?"

"I don't accumulate points with such blatant corruption," mutters Harry, smiling as Flitwick deducts 10 points from each of the six attacking Slytherins.

"And 20 points to Slytherin, Mr. Potter, for such a marvellous show of non-verbal magic. Considering your lack of attendance, this is most surprising!"

Professors Lupin, Moody, and Tonks soon make their way through the growing crowd at the front double doors.

"I don't even need to ask," says Moody, looking from Harry to Malfoy's group. "Keep this up, you three, and you'll end up no different than your fathers! Goyle, your dad got lucky he wasn't at the Ministry last night."

"Oh great!" says Nott, scowling as Tonks approaches Harry. "Another 'teacher' favouring Potter. Is _everyone_ gonna fuss over this bloody—" He goes mute as Harry casts a non-verbal silencing charm.

" _Finite Incantatem_!" Malfoy reverses the charm before leading his group away. Their expressions only worsened upon receiving three nights' worth of detention.

"You alright, Harry?" asks Tonks, while Flitwick and Lupin disperse the growing crowd at the doors.

"Yes, Professor Tonks, I'm perfectly fine."

"Oh, come off it," laughs Tonks. "Now you're making me sound old."

"Okay, I'm fine, Nymphadora."

"It's _Professor Tonks_ to you, Mr. Potter," she says. "Don't make me deduct points from your precious green House." Tonks spots the five girls standing nearby. "Are you ladies just going to stand and stare?"

Before Harry can even think properly, he's swarmed by Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Pansy. All five surrounding him in the tightest of group hugs.

"Are you trying to kill me? Oh, I see, you're working for Voldemort now, eh—OUCH! Let go of my hair, Daphne."

"AAH, HOLY HELL BUT DID WE MISS YOU, BOY!" replies Daphne, refusing to let go until Pansy yanks her away.

"You're looking much better as well, Harry," says a beaming Pansy. "So, I guess Granger has been taking good care of you after all. No more sad, broken-down looking baby Potter, no, sir."

"Now there's no more reason for you girls to dislike my Hermione anymore. She's been helping me cope through this terrible year."

"Did you snog and do the deed with her?" asks Daphne, who giggles upon seeing Harry's expression. "I'll take that as a 'no' then."

"Did you really do all that stuff in the papers?" asks a startled Sally-Anne. "There's no way."

"I didn't even read the papers yet," admits Harry. "Don't tell me they're on my case again?"

"No, no, no!" says Millicent. "They're very praising of you now, Harry, extremely much so. It's like a totally different bunch of people are running the _Daily Prophet._ "

"Nah, it's the same people," says Pansy, "I know it is." She then lowers her voice while pulling Harry into another bear hug. "I'm so glad that mom wasn't with last night. But it's only a matter of time until she's called into action... I really, really hope it's nothing too bad."

"Voldemort's low on the Death Eater count now," says Harry, "He'll be cautious for quite a while. So, let's forget all that and enjoy the Easter holidays."

Daphne, however, remains utterly excitable while almost bouncing on the heels of her shoes. "So, how was it? What does the Dark Lord look like? Is he really strong? What spells did you use to fight someone like him? What was all the fighting about, anyway? I like your wand! Is that your new one? Didn't Pansy say you said it looks like the Dark Lord's one?"

"Too many questions," says Sally-Anne. "You're going to explode his brain, silly. Here's my question: What's the deal with you and school now, Harry? Are you in fifth-year?"

"That's a great question," admits Millicent, as the five girls appear truly concerned. "If you fail your O.W.L.s, it won't be that embarrassing. Everyone will understand that it's because you're out of time, Harry, but we want you in sixth-year next year."

"But, if our Harry Dark Lord warrior does pass, then it'll raise quite a few eyebrows," says Pansy, her green eyes narrowed while staring into Harry's. "Nobody knows for certain that you've been in school this whole time, Mr. Weasley. So, how are you gonna explain passing your exams which are around the corner?"

"I am the Boy-Who-Lived, simple as that. No explanations needed."

"Yes!" exclaims Tracey. "That's the confident Harry that we remember, and that we all adore. He's the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Do-His-Exams now."

Standing quite amazed nearby, the group of four D.A. members turn to leave, but stop as Harry calls them over. Padma, Parvati, Terry, and Ernie now approach the six Slytherins in the corner of the courtyard.

"No more snide rubbish," says Harry, "From now on, we Slytherins won't hold ourselves too high above the rest. I mean; sure, we're still better, but there's no reason not to have allies. So, you four, shake hands with my girls and make peace for anything they may have said or done before."

"Look at this guy," says Padma, "He comes back and thinks he owns the school."

"But he _does_ own the school now," replies Parvati, shaking hands with each of Harry's friends. "Coolest damn Snake we've ever seen."

"No hard feelings over those 20 points I deducted last month, Macmillan?" asks a haughty Pansy. "The Inquisitorial Squad was stupid fun while it lasted."

"Fine, we got that 20 back for helping Professor McGonagall out anyway," says Ernie, shaking hands with Pansy.

"I suspect that you were on Harry's side the whole time," says Terry, looking at a smug Pansy. "No wonder he didn't get caught. You saved his arse."

"Granger did her bit too," says Pansy, "Let's not disregard Harry's love... or one of his loves, though."

"Yeah," adds Tracey. "He's so horny that he can't just pick one girl. It's gotta be, uh, how many, now again?"

"My heart is big enough for all my loves," says Harry, grinning as Pansy smiles. "Ah, it's so lovely to officially be back."

"Where is Granger, anyway?" asks Pansy, "I didn't see her at breakfast."

"She and the other fighters are probably having a lie in," says Harry, "Last night was absolutely insane. And no, I'm not in the mood to discuss why everything went down. Maybe the papers will shed some light someday."

"Alright, the welcoming novelty of our Harry is over," says Pansy, "Your theory's on point, right, baby Potter?"

"Yeah, pretty much so."

"Then, to the greenhouses we go! I don't care what you have to say about relaxation or whatever." Pansy grabs Harry by the arm before leading him all the way to the Herbology greenhouses. Here, they spend the next two hours revising for the O.W.L.

"Man, I've really missed out!"

"Shut up and study," says Pansy, as the girls bring all manner of plants his way. "Yeah, sure, Granger said you were trying to do some practice in that special room, but you're ill-prepared. At least your _Incendio_ is on point, as Professor Sprout hinted that that may come in our exam."

"I've really missed you girls—"

"Shut up and study," says Daphne, before turning Harry to face a small fanged geranium atop the table. "This might also come in our O.W.L."

"Revise, boy, revise!" insists Pansy, standing right beside Harry as they browse through the many plants left out for students to study. By midday, Ron, Neville, and Hermione enter the greenhouse.

"Look, it's your babysitter, Harry," says Pansy, though she smiles at a freshly-woken Hermione. "Had lunch yet, Granger?"

"I sure did, Pansy, but would it kill you to use my first name?"

"You are 'Granger' to me, Granger. It is what it is, Granger."

"Blimey, the whole gang's here," says Ron.

Meanwhile, Neville no longer feels intimidated by Pansy. "I'm studying right here, say whatever you want," he walks past a scoffing Pansy as she looks him up and down.

"Someone's grown big balls since last night," she says, "Fine, act tough, Longbottom. But don't forget who's the real man around school. That'd be my baby Potter."

"Argh, I really don't like that nickname," says Neville, whose new wand sticks out from his trousers pocket. "My gran bought me a new wand, Harry, it's 13 inches of cherry with a unicorn hair core."

"About last night, Neville—"

Pansy looks from Harry to Neville before raising her brows. "That sentence sounds highly suspicious, but okay. What happened last night between the two of you?"

"Oh shoosh, you minx," whispers Hermione in Pansy's ear. "It's certainly not what you might think."

"Forget about it," says Neville, "But, if we all meet again on the battlefield; I'm going to attack her on sight, understand? It doesn't matter if she potentially likes you. Do we have an understanding, Harry?"

"What in heck are they talking about now?" asks Millicent.

"I've never seen Longbottom so serious," replies Sally-Anne. "What's got his knickers in a twist?"

"Do we have an understanding?" repeats Neville. "This is very personal to me, as I'm sure most of Dumbledore's Army already knows."

"Fine," replies Harry calmly. "Go ahead and attack her if you meet again. But don't expect to simply go in and not be tortured, killed or heavily wounded. Now, I'm going to study on that side of the greenhouse." He smiles before heading to the far left while Neville takes up the far right corner to revise. The girls and Ron, meanwhile, stand in its centre.

"Seriously, what the hell was that about?" asks Tracey. "Do tell us right now, anyone! Did our Harry just get told off by _Longbottom_?"

"Surely that cannot be," mutters Pansy, eyeing the grinning Harry in disbelief. "Longbottom's a wuss."

Ron and Hermione proceed to inform the girls of the strange dynamic between Harry Potter and Bellatrix Lestrange. As expected, the girls are all but lost for words. "Are you friggen kidding me, Weasley?" asks Pansy. "Even my mom says one should be wary around that Lestrange bitch."

"Hey, don't question me about what goes on in Harry's head. You girls have spent more time with him than I have," says Ron.

"Excuse me for a moment..." Pansy hurries over to stand behind Harry (who's keenly inspecting another plant). "Explain yourself, Mister. Do you have a kink for strong Death Eater women?" She lowers her voice. "Like, maybe, Bellatrix Lestrange or my mom? Huh? Talk fast, baby Potter."

"She calls me that too, you know. Bella, that is," Harry grins at Pansy's expression of him shortening Bellatrix's name. "Neville seeks to fight her again; well, good luck with that, hahaha! I like Bellatrix."

"Why? Does she turn you on?" asks Pansy, standing with her arms folded. "Granger, me, and Delacour... I know you like tough gals. But, Bellatrix Lestrange is a whole different beast, Harry. Don't tell me you imagine yourself rolling around in bed with her? Typical horny adolescent boy perving on older ladies."

"She's Sirius' cousin, so that makes her like an auntie to me," says Harry, "So I like her no matter what, and I don't care what she's done before."

"But she's pure evil," says Pansy, leaning forward and looking left at Harry.

"So? Your mum's a Death Eater but I don't hold that against you, do I?"

"Point taken," Pansy adopts a thoughtful expression while still looking at Harry. "Just be careful with those ideas; Longbottom's got good reason to hate Lestrange's guts. It probably won't be too long until the whole lot are out of jail again. Now shut up and study."

Hours later, the group of Harry, Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, Sally-Anne, Ron, and Hermione make their way back to the entrance hall. Along the way, every student waves or tries their best to get a word in with Harry, who's surrounded by his group as they eventually enter the Great Hall.

"Hey, hey," says Yasmin, running over to hug Harry near the Slytherin table. "Why didn't I see you earlier today, huh? Look at you, all growing up and fighting friggen _You-Know-Who_! The rest of us D.A. folks missed all the action at the Ministry!"

Cedric and Cho come hurrying over too, both in smiles. "Well done, Harry!" says Cedric, fervently shaking his hand. "Cho and I wish we were there to stick it to the Death Eaters. Oh well, gotta move forward and look to the future, right?"

"Right," says Harry, "I assure you that there'll be plenty of action coming up. The way things are going, it's bound to be all-out war eventually."

"Good thing Cedric's on his way to becoming an Auror then," says Cho, "They'll never know what hit 'em when Mr. Head Boy shows them who's boss. Best Hufflepuff in the Department, he'll be."

"Actually," says Tonks, coming up from behind the group. " _I'm_ the best Badger in the office, sorry. But hey, you can always work towards second place, Head Boy."

"Yes, Professor," replies Cedric, as Tonks walks down the aisle with her head held high. "That's a fascinating woman; you wouldn't say she's an Auror at first glance."

"Oh yeah!" says Harry, snapping his fingers upon remembering something. "I forgot to say that I owe all of Dumbledore's Army an apology. For not getting to the Patronus part that you were all so eagerly anticipating. I'll see if I can ask—"

"Of course, Harry!" says Lupin, now entering the Great Hall. "You folks are talking so loud here I could hear you from the entrance hall. I suppose it's only fair that our, fourth-year and above, Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons practice the Patronus. Have you heard about the dementors abandoning Azkaban? I've always said they were unreliable scum."

Moody now enters the Hall; his wooden leg clearly heard upon his arrival. "All the more reason to get in as much practice as we can. With three of us teaching, I reckon we can squeeze in about two classes for each of the years per week. And we'll rotate the joining too, so... Gryffindor-Slytherin, Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw, Gryffindor-Hufflepuff... you get what I mean, right?"

"That sounds fantastic!" says Cho, "It'll be like continuing Dumbledore's Army again. I really can't wait!"

"Hey, calm down," laughs Cedric, turning around and walking with his arm around her shoulders. "It's still holidays, remember? Wouldn't be fair to have classes now."

Cho takes a moment to turn around and look at Hermione. "I'm not completely forgiving you for Marietta, but I suppose I can't sympathize much with her. I mean, Harry would've been locked away for life if they'd caught him upstairs."

"Edgecombe's a selfish bitch for that snitching," says Harry, "But go and give her the emotional support she needs nowadays."

Cedric and Cho return to the Ravenclaw table while Lupin speaks to Harry's group:

"O.W.L. revision or not," he says, as Moody begins walking down the aisle. "I'm sure all of our staff members realise the importance of training you students to actually defend yourselves. The Ministry has wrought more damage on your safety than you'd admit. An entire year wasted on that stupid _Defensive Magical Theory_ rubbish."

"It's definitely rubbish!" says Hermione, "That book should be burned, scrapped, or used as toilet paper."

Daphne turns to look at Hermione while gasping. "Wow, you know it's dead serious when _Granger_ , of all people, hates a textbook."

"How's your hand doing, Granger?" asks Pansy, "If I could find out where Umbridge stays..." She lowers her voice, "Maybe mom can track her and—"

"Oh gosh no!" says Hermione. "I'm fine, honestly. The scars will fade away over time, much like Edgecombe's damned face. Hers, though, will take far longer to heal."

"Anyway," says Lupin, "we'll negotiate your timetables for the rest of this year. Might be a bit awkward with some shuffling around, but it's for your benefit. Have a good dinner!"

As Lupin walks down the aisle, Harry turns to look at Hermione. "So, um, I don't wanna use you to show off or anything but... would you mind—"

"Consider it a yes," says Hermione, "And I don't give a crap about what anyone else thinks. Ron?"

"I'm sitting by Lavender," he replies, "You go ahead and stick it to the bad Slytherins."

The group of seven now make their way to the end of the Slytherin table; a spot that Harry's sorely missed over this entire year. Now it's Millicent, Tracey, and Daphne sitting with their backs to the Gryffindor table while Sally-Anne, Pansy, Harry, and Hermione sit facing them.

"This feels so strange," says Hermione, especially as she notes the countless heads turned her way. "Feels great, actually!"

"Embrace your naughty side, Granger, that's a good snuggle Muggle wuggle," says Pansy. Harry, meanwhile, leans forward while looking to his right and down the Slytherin table. His brows raised as if challenging anyone to speak out.

As expected, the anti-Potter minority stab their forks while eating; their expressions conveying nothing but the utmost disgust at Hermione's presence. But it's not all doom and gloom, however, as many friendly faces seem relatively unfazed by a Muggleborn at their table. Amongst the friendly crowd is Irma Flint, who happily waves at Harry.

Minutes later sees a few _Daily Prophet_ owls swooping down upon the tables. Their presence at dinner suggests today's arrival of an _Evening Prophet_ , which doesn't always happen.

"The _Evening Prophet_!" says Tracey, "Cool! I guess there's news they were just so darn eager to print out. Paper's quite thin, though; I wonder why they didn't just leave it for tomorrow morning?"

"Oh my God," sighs Hermione, having already finished reading the front page article of her newspaper. "This is never going to end. We are never ever gonna hear the end of _this_ from Harry..."

She then proceeds to loudly re-read the article entitled **_HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE_** which speculates about last night's battle involving an alleged prophecy between Harry and Voldemort. Although details are extremely vague, they're enough to have the general public believe in this new title. Harry, meanwhile, adopts a smile so smug that all his girls sit with head in hands. He then stuffs food in his mouth as everyone in the Great Hall glances more than a few times at him. Soon, Hermione balls her first while looking at Harry.

"Will you stop eating so darn loud already? Really!"

"The Chosen One does not chew with his mouth closed."

"Oh my gosh," sighs Pansy, before letting out a loud groan against her hand. " _Kritz-kritz-kritz_ in my ears all night long!"

They may act annoyed, but it's clear that the girls have truly missed their Harry. The latter savours his dinner while basking in the countless students hurrying over to speak with him. Eventually, once their bellies are full, students begin filing out the Great Hall. Harry, however, politely apologizes to his group.

"Could you tell all my fellow loyal Slytherins that I'll be spending the night at Gryffindor?"

"The what now?" asks Millicent, whose expression of shock is shared throughout the group. "Oh, I see, you're wanting to fraternize with the enemy..."

"Enough of that rubbish," replies Harry, "I'm done insulting Gryffindor; and you can thank Hermione for that."

"Forever so dramatic," says Hermione, hooking her arm around Harry's. "You do know that we almost never allow others into our common room, right? It's a tradition of Hogwarts, as outlined in—"

" _Hogwarts, A History_ ," recites Pansy. "Yes, we are all well aware of that... Polyjuice Babe."

"But I fought off and chased away Voldemort from the Ministry," says Harry, as the group walks across the entrance hall. "That's bravery worthy of a Gryffindor."

"Yeah," says Daphne, "You're a bloody Scarlet Snake now, boy. Spy on them Lions good for us, alright?"

Harry laughs while climbing the staircase alongside Hermione; both heading towards the seventh floor of the castle.


	26. A House Divided

"Yeah, Lavender and I, we make a great team. You all should've seen us kick Death Eater bu—BLIMEY! You're bringing  _Harry_  right up to our common room like this?" Ron's reaction while sitting on the couch addressing the room makes both Harry and Hermione laugh. The former's presence immediately creates quite a stir in Gryffindor Tower.

"IT'S  _THE_  HARRY POTTER! HE'S IN OUR COMMON ROOM!"

Students of all ages flock to shake his hand and bombard him with questions about practically everything in his life. As the minutes race by, Harry loses count of the amount of times he's asked about Voldemort, his scar, or why he's not in Gryffindor. Seeing the quizzical looks shown towards his 'wicked-looking' wand, Harry finally takes a seat on the couch. He then turns it with a spell to face the rest of the room. Hermione, though, swiftly whispers in his ear through the noisy atmosphere.

"Hey! Act like you've never been up here. Most of us aren't aware that you've snuck in before."

He glances around, as if taking in the sight of this room, before continuing to answer the onslaught of questions. "I certainly did fight Voldemort," he assures one third-year girl, and receives gasps yet again at using the Dark Lord's name. "Yeah, my scar is definitely shaped to the Killing Curse itself," he tells one sixth year boy. "Oh, definitely, I sure did beat a Basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor."

"But you're a Slytherin! How could you pull out our legendary sword and take down your own people's monster?" asks a fourth-year boy.

"You don't have to be a Gryffindor to be brave, you know. Just like not all Slytherins are evil. In fact..." Harry narrows his eyes while in thought. "I'm sure you're all aware of the story about my godfather, right? Some of you may recall the guy named Peter Pettigrew, who framed poor Sirius Black for over a decade. My parents were great Gryffindors, yeah, but they were indirectly killed by their own fellow Gryffindor classmate."

"Didn't You-Know-Who kill your parents?" asks a sixth-year girl.

Hermione, lounging on the couch with her legs across Harry's lap, answers the question. "Pettigrew betrayed Harry's parents to Voldemort—Yes, I say his name too, you know!—So, Peter was a bad Gryffindor; anyone can become good or evil regardless of their House." She tilts her head (while laying against the couch's armrest) to look at Harry. "Here's a good Slytherin, for example. Then, there's the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who taught in '91-'92..."

"Professor Quirrell!" says Parvati, "Yeah, who can forget that stammering idiot? Man, his classes reeked of garlic every damn day. Why don't you tell the rest of our House the truth about old Quirrell, Harry?"

"Yeah," says Dean Thomas, "You said something pretty important when we formed our study group."

"Tell them, Ron; this is your House, after all," says Harry.

"Quirrell was working with You-Know-Who," says Ron, "Vol— Voldemort, yeah!"

"So, there you have it," says Hermione to the surprised crowd, as they grab any seat available in the common room. "One foul Ravenclaw he was; Quirrell, I mean."

"What does the Slytherin Common Room look like? And how does one get in?" asks Cormac McLaggen, seated atop a wooden table on the side of the room.

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you all how to get in—"

"But you just came into our one," says McLaggen, "Let's make it fair, Potter."

"I wouldn't advise visiting Slytherin," says Harry, "My lot are not as welcoming as you are."

"Nice response," mutters Hermione, as Harry's reply seems to go well with the Gryffindors.

"But I can tell you what it looks like," says Harry, causing many students to lean forward in their eagerness. "There's forever a slight greenish tint in the room; so, it's not as warm and 'homely' as this one. It's cold and rather elegant... medieval-looking, I'd say. We're under the lake, you see, so the giant squid and other creatures occasionally pass by our windows. The lake itself gives our room its tint; in addition to the greenish lamps hung about. Imagine... a classy rich person's home placed underwater; that's kinda close to our common room."

While some students decide upon their next questions, Harry takes to rubbing Hermione's legs beneath her jeans.

"I've got a question," says a lower-year girl, "Granger, did you get Harry Potter with one of them Love Potions?"

"Oh, what, excuse me?" Hermione appears remarkably offended at the suggestion, and her cheeks turn a noticeable shade of red. "Well, I never!"

"Didn't mean to offend," says the girl, "It's just that... how could someone, who hardly puts in much effort, get all the handsome ones? First Krum, and now even Harry Potter. We just thought maybe you spiked some treats or something?"

Through all the laughter (instigated by Fred, George, and Ron), Harry's eyes dart to catch a glimpse of one thoughtful girl sitting in a corner. He tries remembering her name, but then resorts to leaning closer to Hermione. "Who's that curly-haired, quiet girl in that corner? I think I've met her long ago; can't quite recall her name, though."

"Romilda Vane," replies Hermione, "She looks suspiciously thoughtful, doesn't she? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"My brain would explode if I tried to think like you." Harry grins at the playful glare on Hermione's face, but he agrees with her nonetheless. "Surely she's not  _that_  desperate?"

"Be on your guard, Harry," says Hermione, "She looks ready to rip off your trousers and play with your Basilisk."

"But that's your job."

Once again, Hermione's expression both intimidates and excites Harry as they gaze upon each other.

"Ahem, lovebirds," says Fred, once the noise dies down, "Got another question over here..."

Another lower-year girl looks at Harry while speaking. "Who's really your girlfriend, Harry Potter? I mean, we always see you with that evil mean Parkinson girl too. Oh, and there was that time last year when you had that pretty French Champion girl as well."

"He's not one to settle on just one girl," says Ginny, who Harry spots as being fairly disappointed. "Sure, some girls are fine with that; like, perhaps, Hermione and Fleur and Parkinson. But I'm sure there are plenty of others who'd rather prefer being the one and only love in their man's life." She looks directly at him now, before looking away. "Not that I'm speaking about anyone I know, though. Just an opinion from the majority of us girls, you know?"

"Yeah," agrees Angelina Johnson, "Fair play to you, Hermione, but quite a few of us would rather be  _the one_  to their man. Don't take it personally, alright?"

"Oh please," says Hermione, waving her hand dismissively, "You're entitled to your own opinions, so no harm done. Besides, it's not like Harry goes around courting every single girl he sees. It's just three of us, that's all."

Deciding upon changing the topic before things get awkward, Lavender speaks. "So, Harry, now that you're back... Does this mean you'll be rejoining your Quidditch team when Gryffindor comes for that Cup?"

"Rejoin Malfoy?" Harry looks incredulously around the room before laughing. "There's no way they'll ever let me play, and Nott's the Captain, remember?"

"So, you'll never be able to play Quidditch again?" asks Katie Bell, "That is a real shame."

"Sucks to be you now, mate," says Seamus, while Dean nods in agreement. "Guess you'll have to watch from the stands as we take your cheating gits down for the Cup."

Harry grins. "It's not like I haven't cheated before—"

"That's different," says Ron, "Cheating in goals is still fun. But deducting points in midair and using Inquisitorial rubbish powers are not. Every time we got the Quaffle or wanted to score then one of 'em Slytherins would deduct 2 points from us. Look at our hourglass these days!"

As the evening moves on, and the common room gradually clears out, Harry remains cosied up at the fireplace with Hermione. They turn their couch to face the warm blaze once more before perusing their Potions textbooks.

"I think I've got this nailed," says Harry, after reading through the Draught of Peace, Calming Draught, and Girding Potion yet again. "We should take all three of these before playing in bed in the future—"

"What? Can't  _perform_  without a little chemical help?"

"That's not funny!"

"You started it," laughs Hermione, before shushing him to continue their reading. "We should capitalize on the Easter holidays to do some practical revision. I reckon we ought to use tomorrow morning for Potions, and tomorrow afternoon for Transfiguration."

Yawning widely, Harry leans to rest his head on Hermione's chest while staring into the fire. "I want the evening off; no negotiations!'

"Suit yourself," mutters Hermione, while planning their study schedules. "But you're dreadfully behind in Astronomy practice. So we'll have to brave the freezing cold Astronomy tower tomorrow night. Dress nice and snug, alright?"

"Sure thing," Harry stifles yet another yawn. "Tuesday afternoon we can go to the greenhouses again. Actually, why don't we all have a bit of flying fun in the morning? I vote for a pickup game of Quidditch. Deal?"

"I don't know, Harry..."

"Well, I don't expect you to still play Seeker against Slytherin anymore. You're busy, and that I understand. But why not take some time out for some fresh air? You're not that dreadful up there."

"If I'm going to appease your flying urges, Mister Potter, then you'll squeeze in Charms theory with me in the afternoon. We can find a classroom to use after Herbology. Deal?"

"Yep, yep, Mugglebun."

Before he knows it, Harry's fast asleep on Hermione's lap in the common room. Both students having studied well past midnight; and both dozing off on the couch. By morning, Harry 'accidentally' climbs the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories. What follows is a loud, wailing, klaxon-like siren followed by Harry sliding on his abdomen all the way back down. Then, he's ejected before landing on his back between the boys' and girls' staircase doors. Almost instantly, three lower-year girls come zooming down the stone slide; their expressions convey nothing but amusement.

"I knew this would happen!" says one of them gleefully. "Harry Potter tried to enter the girls' side!"

"He tried to get in by the girls," sings another, as Harry stops himself from grinning. More girls then come sliding down before gracefully landing beside him.

"Oh my word," sighs Angelina, "Didn't anyone tell our guest where to go? Boys are that side, and you aren't allowed up our staircase. Try actually reading the signs next time, Harry."

"Yeah, I pretty much figured that out just now, thanks," says Harry, sitting up before a growing group of giggling girls. Looking right, he spots Hermione covering her mouth to suppress her laughter, though her cheeks remain raised. "I'm off to breakfast..."

Ron, having exited the boys' side ahead of his group, turns to look at Harry. "Don't you want a shower or something? Bathroom's up the stairs, you know."

"Yes," says Hermione, speaking from the fireplace across the room. "Please go shower, Harry. Leave the cleaning charms for your clothes instead of yourself, this time."

After enjoying a shower in the same bathroom his father would've once used, Harry slips on his (freshly cleaned) uniform again. He then descends the staircase before returning to the common room area, where various casually dressed students glance quizzically at him.

"It's holidays, Harry," says Lavender, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Nah, leave him, Lav," says Ron, after having briefly studied some Care of Magical Creatures theory. "He's really missed walking around in uniform."

"Speaking of haven't been doing anything in awhile... look!" Parvati points towards the window, which Hedwig happily pecks against. 'Ooohs' and 'aaahs' come from many a girl, including Fay Dunbar and Eloise Midgen, amongst others.

"I've always loved that owl," sighs Lavender to Parvati, "She's so beautiful."

"Just like her owner," says Hermione rather loudly. "Perfect match, I'd say."

Blushing a slight bit, Harry opens the window and immediately pats his snowy owl. "Bet you're super happy now that things are normal again, huh? Feel free to fly around Hogwarts all day long!"

Hedwig gives a loud hoot of approval before sticking out her leg. Then she nibbles down on some treats in Harry's hand before setting off for the morning sky.

"Quite eager, wasn't she?" asks Harry, while opening his letter. "Could hardly wait to deliver it at the breakfast table."

_Dear Harry (Try to read this in a beautiful French girl's accent, Monsieur.)_

_Hope all is well and that you're settling in nicely again. I would say that I've been missing you lots but I know you well enough already. I am the one that is pretty old between us, so it's understandable if we don't see each other very often._

_What I want to say is that I'm considering a little break from my part-time job at the bank. William is very kind and says he will always keep a post available if I want to return._

_Why am I taking such a long leave, you may ask? Well, your Sirius Black godfather told me that I am most welcome to join the patrols around the area. I might not be an Auror but Miss Tonks was kind enough to put in some good words for me. That, and the fact that I competed in the Triwizard Tournament, makes both Mr. Gowain Robards and Mrs. Amelia Bones approve of me helping the Aurors near or in Hogwarts._

_Wishing you all of the very merry best for your exams. I know you can handle the pressure and be in sixth year next year._

_Happy Easter and lots and lots of love,_

_Fleur Isabelle Delacour._

_-Triwizard Champion_

_-Beauxbatons Duelling Champion (1990-1991 and 1992-1993 years)._

_-Beauxbatons Graduate (class of 1994-1995)._

_-Gringotts Wizarding Bank Employee (part-time, 1995-1996)._

While looking over Harry's shoulder, Hermione softly laughs after having silently read Fleur's letter. "Cute, but she didn't have to put all that bottom information in."

"Let her take pride in herself," says Harry, before throwing up the letter and yelling in joy. "WOOOOO! This is definitely the light at the end of the long, dark, windowless tunnel!"

Dozens of students gape in confusion until George snatches the letter in midair to read. Then he laughs and whistles with many others before speaking. "Someone's smoking hot girlfriend is coming back into town! Careful there, Granger..."

"Oh, please," scoffs Hermione, "I am far above petty jealousy."

"You sure, Granger?" asks Fred, nudging Hermione in the side. "Harry's gonna have his attention divided..."

"His attention's forever divided anyway," she replies, causing Harry to smile and turn around.

"Let's head to breakfast."

For the first time ever, Harry exits the Fat Lady's portrait with over a dozen Gryffindors behind him.

"Now, let's not make it a habit of bringing Slytherins in here, okay?" says the Fat Lady, while Harry descends the staircases ahead of his group. As they near the first floor corridor (which passes by the entrance hall), he prepares himself for a likely confrontation. Harry's instincts are proven to be correct once he and the Gryffindors reach the marble staircase.

Standing near a door off the entrance hall, which leads to the dungeons, is essentially the entire Slytherin Quidditch Team. They are joined by various Housemates who've proven themselves to be pro-Umbridge and anti-Potter. Thankfully, Harry's haters are forever the minority in Slytherin.

"This looks about right, yeah," says Nott, while Malfoy sneers beside him. "Stay where you belong, Potter, and keep the hell out of  _our_  dungeons. Your stupid dead parents came from Gryffindor Tower, and they were betrayed by their stupid Gryffindork cowardly friend anyway."

Hermione urges the Gryffindors to keep calm, as Harry does while looking down upon his own Housemates from the balcony. After a moment's pause for thought, Harry folds his arms and smiles. "But you see, it's one stupid coward of a Slytherin who couldn't finish baby me off, eh? The same stupid coward who I chased off at the Ministry, and who your dad is a slave to. House Elf Nott Sr., ahahahaha!"

"Shut up, Potter!" says Malfoy, "Did you forget that your best buddy Parkinson's mother also serves the Dark Lord?"

"Where's your proof?" asks Harry, knowing full well that he'd rather not cause trouble for Pansy's mum.

"Mrs. Parkinson's got the Dark Mark on her arm, in case you've forgotten about that time in third year. So, by insulting our fathers, you're insulting your own misguided friend's mother, idiot."

"You've got him now, Draco!" says one of the seventh-year boys. "Prat can't make a comeback to that, can he?"

More Gryffindors, and some Ravenclaws, now exit the grand staircase and halt upon seeing the confrontation unfolding. Harry, meanwhile, remains smiling as he responds. "Well, I sure don't see Pansy complaining about her mum being in prison. Not my fault your dumb daddy couldn't lead his Death Eater gang effectively at the Ministry. Or hasn't he told you how Sirius Black and I outsmarted most of them? That was even before our backup had arrived."

"You've ruined EVERYTHING!" shouts Nott, drawing his wand which Malfoy and the rest (as well as the Gryffindors) all follow. Now it's a scene of two groups taking aim at each other; one at the side of the entrance hall, and the other atop the first floor corridor.

"We're close in numbers," says a seventh-year Slytherin girl, "Let's make Potter pay."

"Not bloody likely!" retorts Fred, while George flanks Harry on the left. "Why don't you minority rot lot just leave to go join You-Know-Who already?"

While aiming at the awaiting Harry, Zabini scoffs. "It doesn't get any LESS SLYTHERIN than you, Pothead! Bringing a Mudblood to our table, and having previously used the Sword of GRYFFINDOR to kill Salazar Slytherin's legendary beast in our legendary Chamber... The great beast that was about to cleanse our school of Muggleborn filth! You're a disgrace, Potter; the Sorting Hat's greatest mistake ever in the history of this school."

"The greatest mistake is what came out of your dad's balls over fifteen years ago, Zabini. Same goes for you too, Nott—" Harry then smirks while blocking a Leg-Locker Curse from Malfoy.

"One more spell and we'll all start casting," warns Ron, standing near the marble banister.

Nott checks around for incoming staff members before letting loose with his group. Harry swiftly retaliates with the Gryffindors, and a barrage of spells come soaring across the entrance hall between about two dozen students. Flashes, crashes, bangs and yells create a riot of a scene before the dungeon door slams open.

" _Finite Incantatem!" "Reparo!"_

Everyone holsters their wands as a furious Snape strides into the entrance hall, terminating spells and repairing any damage along the way. Among the shattered items is the hourglass of Gryffindor, whose rubies lay scattered about before being mended in place. Snape then looks from Harry to the Gryffindors to Malfoy's bunch.

"WHO IN THEIR ADDLED MIND STARTED THIS CONFRONTATION?"

Nott hurriedly points at a red-faced Harry before the latter speaks. "Just because I'm standing with some Gryffindors doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to start such a fight, sir. Nott and his lot came to provoke us first. I can't help what happened at the Ministry—"

"Enough, Potter!" says Snape, before glaring at a sniggering Zabini. "All of you, into the Great Hall at once! 3 Points from Gryffindor for each of you"—Snape eyes the Gryffindor students standing across the balcony—"who've participated in this unruly excuse of a duel." He then looks to the left at his own students. "Nott, you and your team are hereby banned from the Quidditch pitch for this entire week."

Seeing the gobsmacked expression on Nott's face makes Harry grin while hurrying into the Great Hall. This time its him taking a spot at the Gryffindor table, in contrast to Hermione having sat near Harry yesterday. It takes a good few minutes for Ron and the rest to explain just what's happened outside, as dozens of students appear unsettled from the racket. Harry's presence at the Gryffindor table certainly makes for a comical breakfast session, as many students glance his way. Most (including his own friends) seem unfazed or slightly amused, but the usual minority group shake their heads in disgust.

"Ah, what the hell," he sighs, upon catching a glimpse of the crowd near Malfoy to the far left of the Slytherin table. The bad ones, it seems, tend to favour being at the end of the Slytherin table nearest the Hall's double doors. "Right-o, Miss Granger, it's Potions time. Shall I take you to the dungeons?"

"And do what with me down there?"

"Study, of course," Harry leads the way as he, Hermione, and the Slytherin girls head for the Potions classroom. The rest of the morning spent brewing two Draughts which they've previously revised. While brewing, Harry sees Snape walking past him every so often, and the latter glances quizzically from Pansy to Hermione to Harry sharing a workstation.

"Focus, Parkinson. The O.W.L. exams will show no mercy."

"Y-Yes, sir, I've got this!"

Once Snape moves to inspect the table of Daphne and Tracey, Harry whispers to Hermione. "Help Pansy out a bit."

"But what about you?"

"I'm top of this class, usually. Ain't nothing stopping me from getting into N.E.W.T.s—"

"Potter won't be on hand to aid you in the exams, Granger," says Snape, causing Hermione to blush indignantly. "Enough whispering."

"Wha— Well, I never... Him help me? Hmph! I'll show Harry Potter who's the better brewer around here."

Their revision now turns to competition, with Harry smiling all the way, even though Hermione beats him to a perfect brew. But he takes it in stride as the day moves on, past lunch, towards afternoon. Now, Harry enters Classroom 1B with his girls, as well as the fifth-year Gryffindors (except Roger Malone, who's rarely hung out with his roommates since third year).

"Leave Malone," says Ron, as the group of him, Harry, Hermione, Fay, Eloise, Parvati, Lavender, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Pansy, Millicent, Sally-Anne, Tracey, and Daphne enter the relatively empty classroom. "Git's too uptight to chill with us these days."

"Oh, for crying out loud," whispers Harry to Hermione, upon seeing the other fifth-year Slytherin boys already practicing in class. "Why do I keep on running into these scumbags?"

"Keep it calm, Harry," whispers Hermione, as the group of fifteen attempt to take up the far right section of the classroom. Their efforts are in vain, however, as Malfoy immediately voices his disapproval.

"We came here to study for our O.W.L.s, and not to watch our Housemates disgrace themselves with such company. But I guess you, Parkinson, had us all fooled in the Inquisitorial Squad, eh? Lying, spying, swine. Your mother wouldn't approve of your actions."

Pansy politely nudges her way past Harry, before walking to stand a few metres from the glaring Malfoy. "Did you really think I was that desperate for power, Draco? Sucking up to Umbridge was probably a new low in my life, ironically. But it had to be done."

" _Why_?" asks Nott, moving to stand beside a livid Malfoy. "Hey, you know what, guys? Something really doesn't add up with Scarhead over there. Take a moment and think things over..."

Zabini nods while stepping forward. "Yeah, he's awfully prepared for someone who's spent most of their year locked away with Muggles. Theory I can understand, because he probably had nothing to do but cry and read over his wizarding textbooks all day long. But his practical skills are suspiciously good..."

"Especially considering the Trace would out him immediately if he were to have used Magic at his Muggle home," says Malfoy. "Hmm, you don't think..." He now looks ahead at Harry while appearing quite thoughtful. "Sneaky bastard! You had those Aurors tricked, didn't you? Father said the Ministry tried to keep track of you, but they underestimated your Invisibility Cloak, Potter. So, you've snuck out at night then went towards wherever your stupid godfather lives, eh?"

Relief sweeps over Harry as Malfoy's 'realisation' does nothing to suspect Kingsley's assistance. Therefore, Harry now acts half-surprised, half-impressed. "Oh, wow, didn't expect you to figure it out so soon. Yeah, I snuck out at night. Wasn't too difficult to get past whatever Auror was on duty, because they were cautious not to cast too many spells in my Muggle neighbourhood. Easy as pie with my Invisibility Cloak."

"Where had you then travelled to, Potter? And how?" asks Malfoy. "Father had been trying for years to locate your godfather's place of residence. Hell, even Aunt Bellatrix could never recall wherever that is. Neither could mother, and she was a Black too! You've all charmed it, right? That's the only bloody explanation. Charmed it just like your parents tried to hide at Godric's Hollow." He smiles wickedly while trying to provoke Harry. "I think we all know how that turned out... Thank you, Peter Pettigrew, for your loyal service."

But nothing happens. Harry remains standing with his arms folded even as the students all observe him; his expression a cold, calm smile achieved via locking down his emotions. "I'm not going to lose my temper, if that's what you're hoping for. My parents died heroic deaths, and their rat traitor got what he deserved. You know, I really enjoyed the sight of that Dementor's Kiss. Don't screw with me, Draco Malfoy, and take this as a warning. Dolohov and Crouch Jr. both found out what happens when you get on my nasty side."

"Go ahead then, Potter," says Malfoy, holding his arms out as if wanting Harry to attack. "Use the Cruciatus Curse again, and send yourself to Azkaban again."

"WHAT?" Harry's girls, as well as the Gryffindors who haven't fought on Saturday night, gape at a smirking Harry.

"Speaking of Azkaban," he says, "You might end up there if you keep on speaking. How do you know about my Cruciatus Curse usage at the Ministry? I never explicitly said so, did I? Who told you? Because your daddy dearest immediately got his pampered arse tossed in jail."

"Potter admits to using  _Crucio_ ," says Zabini, "Let's inform the Ministry—"

"They won't do a damn thing," says Harry, "because I am the Chosen One. Now then, who told you about my attacks? Are you indirectly admitting to having Voldemort or Crouch Jr. visiting Malfoy Manor?"

Malfoy's expression turns to momentary fear before regaining his composure. "Snape! Professor Snape told us about what happened, yes. He told us all in the common room yesterday."

"He's lying," says Pansy calmly, "Professor Snape never said a word about the Ministry."

"SHUT UP, PARKINSON!" shouts Nott. "Your mum's a known Death Eater, so you should be on our side now. The Dark Lord's not going to approve of your friendship with Potter. Or haven't you realised that yet?"

"Firstly, my mom was under the Imperius Curse all those years—"

"Big, fat lie," says Malfoy, "If my father got caught on his cover story, then so should your mother."

Pansy carries on after ignoring Malfoy's comments. "Secondly, the Dark Lord doesn't give a damn what I do at school. He already knows, probably thanks to your dad, that I'm friends with Harry."

"Better watch your back, Potter," sneers Nott, "I wouldn't trust Parkinson if I were you. We all know her mum's still a Death Eater."

"Thirdly, it's your dad that screwed up, Malfoy, since he went on that mission. Harry's told me that your dad was the leader—"

"Stop covering up like a coward," says Malfoy, "Admit that your mother is still in contact with the Dark Lord and the others. They've been keeping communication going with her. Own up already!"

"My mom was under the Imperius Curse all those years and isn't sure what's going on," recites Pansy, with an overly sweet smile. "She's so confused and scared these days, you know."

"You disgust us," mutters Nott, now shaking his head. "And to think there was a time Draco, Blaise, and I, were considering you for the future. Bah! You're more of a Blood Traitor than a Pureblood, Parkinson. Your mother should be ashamed. Forget it, you're totally cleaned off our courting list FOREVER!"

"Yeah," adds Zabini, "No matter what happens now, we'll never think about touching swine like you. Enjoy a tarnished reputation in our Pureblood circles, Parkinson. But I guess you're content with the Mudbloods, Half-Bloods, or Blood Traitors out there. Just don't come crawling back when the Dark Lord starts winning this war. Because we'll never ever think to consider you again."

"Come on,  _Purebloods_ ," says Malfoy, "Let's go study somewhere else; preferably away from Potter's circus group."

Once Malfoy and his four roommates have left Classroom 1B, Harry approaches Pansy. He notes how her pretty nose appears flared as she stands battling her suppressed rage.

"Don't listen to a word they've said. I think you're the best Pureblood girl ever—"

"I don't need your pity, Harry."

"Oh, alright then," Harry gives a slight smile to lighten Pansy's mood. "It could be worse, you know. Look at me, battling Voldemort then returning to school to stress for my O.W.L.s. Seriously, though, shouldn't I get at least a 100% Outstanding on Defence Against the Dark Arts for this? It doesn't get any more Dark Artsy than Lord Voldemort himself."

Pansy's furious expression now fades as she giggles. Then she smiles ever so warmly with Harry; in stark contrast to the dislike shown towards the other fifth-year Slytherin boys.

"It doesn't get any more Dark Artsy than you, Mr. Killing Cruciatus Curse."

"Hey, I've survived it so I got every right to use it. Oh don't look at me like that, girls, I am the Chosen One. Shall we get studying?"

From practicing Vanishing Charms on various objects to reading through complicated spell theories, Harry and the others spend the entire afternoon in Classroom 1B. Then comes an evening of rest before it's off to the freezing cold Astronomy tower for a night of practical studies. By 1am, the group splits to return to their respective common rooms.

"How long has it been since I was last in ours, huh?" asks Harry, walking down the dungeon corridor towards the blank patch of wall. "Homecoming time!"

Pansy leads the way into the now empty Slytherin common room, where Harry takes a few minutes to bask in his return. The elegant room and its slight tint of green immediately has him smiling in joy.

"How long is this going to take?" asks Tracey, standing with her arms folded and tapping her fingers impatiently.

"The common room hasn't changed much since you were last here, Harry," says Sally-Anne. "Are you going to daydream all night?"

"I think we should just carry him to our room," says Daphne, "Here goes!"

"Hey, don't try your luck!" Harry wriggles free as Daphne attempts to lift him off the ground, with slight success. "Same clothes tomorrow for me, because I don't trust bringing all my stuff here just yet."

Millicent and Pansy glance at each other before the former speaks. "Yeah, Malfoy sounded pretty pissed off about your Cloak. But why now, after all these years? It's not like he's never known that you own one."

"He's pissed off because my Cloak is what led to Sirius and I outsmarting Lucius Malfoy. That snobbish git wanted to burn it at the Ministry; now he's in jail where he belongs," says Harry, before Pansy places a hand on his shoulder as they walk across the common room.

"Don't you trust us anymore? We'll never pillage and wreck your stuff, you know."

"It's not you that I'm worried about," he says, "Plenty of sixth and seventh-years still hate me. And that includes both boys and girls." Harry shoves open the door leading to the girls' dormitory tunnels. "I'll leave my possessions at home, yeah. And no, I still can't tell you where I live with Sirius."

"Whatever," says Pansy, "One day we can all put our issues aside and then it'll be a nice big party! Now, don't stress your pretty face, baby Potter. We girls will keep you safe, snug, and sound in our room, right?"

They all agree before leading Harry into the fifth-year girls' dormitory room. It appears nearly identical to last year's one, and even comes equipped with a sixth bed for Harry's use.

"We thought you might return someday," says Tracey, now readying herself for a shower. "So, if you don't have any pyjamas then we take it you'll sleep in uniform? That's quite uncomfortable."

Harry shrugs before heading into the bathroom (adjacent to the bedroom) once the girls have all finished. But as he lays back in the bathtub, he spots Pansy entering the room with a mischievous grin.

"Don't tell me you didn't expect some form of 'welcome back' gift, huh?" Down goes her silver nightgown. "Try not to disturb the girls while they're reading..."

Nearly an hour later sees Harry exiting the bathroom while dressed in uniform once again. Pansy follows him out before slapping his backside and winking at the others. "He's smiling like that for a reason, you know," she says smugly to the other four. "All I can say is that we're both  _hard-workers_ , hehehe."

"Wow, Pansy, you're a bloody animal! I can't believe we've never done all that fun stuff before, seriously. Good night and sweet dreams, my lovely ladies," Harry shuts his curtains before leaping onto his bed for a well deserved night's sleep.

Tuesday brings a clear division in the common room as more than half its residents flock to welcome their Boy-Who-Lived back. Much like in Gryffindor Tower, Harry seats himself on a couch then answers a flurry of questions. But on the topic of the Ministry, he spots roughly a quarter of Slytherin sitting in their section of the room. Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, and all the other anti-Potter students appear ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Whether it's from missing him all year long, or last night's happy hour, Harry notes Pansy being increasing fierce in her defence of him. "Call me a Blood Traitor," she says to the haters, walking over to kiss the seated Harry on his head. "But I don't give a single flying fu—"

"Yeah," agrees Irma Flint, a now feisty second-year student. "Harry's back, and there's nothing you hating conniving idiots can do about it!"

"The Dark Lord will win this war," says Hayden Rowle, "He almost did, last time. If it weren't for one stupid baby shit whose parents tried to play hero—"

Pansy beats Harry to the draw, and soon stands with 10 inches of ebony wood aimed at the seventh-year. Her dragon heartstring core ready to power whatever spell its owner can think of.

Rowle, though, already has his wand aimed at Pansy as she stands beside Harry. "Don't embarrass yourself, Parkinson, you can't beat a N.E.W.T. student in a duel."

"Put that wand away," says Harry calmly, resting on his left elbow that's atop the black leather armrest. "If I could take on Death Eaters, then even a seventh-year is nothing. Or would you like me to take you down again?"

" _Chosen One_ , my arse!" scoffs Rowle, before firing off a non-verbal hex that Harry deflects with a swipe of his wand. The spell then hits Rowle's friend, Fawley, causing yellowish goo to squirt from his nose.

"ARGH, DABN YOU, PODDER!" shouts Fawley, pinching his nostrils shut as Rowle attempts a counterspell. And just like yesterday morning, the battle lines are drawn as two groups seem ready for war. This time, though, Harry holds a far greater advantage in numbers as friendly faces surround his couch.

"My uncle, Thorfinn, got a tip-off that the  _Daily Prophet_ is planning on publishing the names of any Death Eaters at large," says a seething Rowle, "Your reputation is going down the drain, Parkinson. And you'd better watch your back, Potter."

"They can't arrest my mom if she's not caught doing crap now, can they?" asks Pansy smugly, before looking at Malfoy. "She's not as foolish and silly as Draco's fath—"

_"Anteoculatia!"_

Nott's hex is hurriedly deflected by Tracey, as the latter shields Pansy from sprouting antlers. To Harry's disappointment, though, nobody gets hit on the rebound.

"Trying to hex me, Theodore?" asks Pansy, "One more spell and this common room turns to World War 3."

"The what now?" asks Zabini, standing beside a fuming Nott, "Never heard of that, so it's gotta be a Muggle reference or something. See? Parkinson's no more Pureblood than one of them Weasleys, I'd say."

"ABRACADABRA!" yells Harry, smirking as Nott's group screams for a moment before halting.

"Wait, hold up, that's not the Killing..." Nott glares at the laughing Harry. "Oh, very funny there, Pothead...very funny. Did the Muggles teach you that joke? Because it's all that remains from centuries back. Yeah, Statute of Secrecy or not, myths or not; our kind used to cast the Killing Curse on them stupid persecuting Muggle burners. So, don't you dare come throwing those bastardised, leftover words that they think are myths!"

"And don't you dare try to hex horns onto my Pansy," retorts Harry, "That's a foul move, even from you."

"He's mocking us witches and wizards," says Nott to the room, although none more turn against Harry. "I've always said that Potter's for the Muggles wiping us out."

"I'm a wizard too, remember?" scoffs Harry, "How can you say something so damn stupid?"

"Enough bickering!" yells Yasmin, standing behind Harry's couch. "I'm Head Girl once again, and I say everyone needs to get the fu— hell out for breakfast. All of you, go feed your brains right this instant!"

"Screw you, Dumbledore's Army bitch," says Rowle, to which many seventh-years nod in agreement. Adrian Pucey, though, doesn't stand for it, and he immediately draws his wand. Miles Bletchley and Cassius Warrington also jump to Yasmin's defence.

"The only bitch here is you, Rowle," says Warrington, "Stop threatening and get studying before you fail your N.E.W.T.s."

"Oh look," says Malfoy, "All the Quidditch rejects are grouping up. You lot, and Scarhead too, will never ever get a place on our team."

"Go talk to your dad in prison," says Bletchley, "Check if his backside's still alright—"

_"Calvario!"_

Bletchley dodges Malfoy's attack before the big battle gets underway. Now, spells of all kinds go flying across the common room as the haters conjure up and hide behind any existing furniture. From Leg-Lockers to Stunners to Tickling Hexes to all manner of minor attacks, the room erupts into a barrage of duelling. Harry, however, remains seated on his couch surrounded by his shield charm. All the sessions of Moody or the D.A. having honed his  _Protego_.

Pansy shrieks with laughter while ducking behind the couch which Harry's lounging on. "Hahahaha! Look at Mister Sexy Kingpin just sitting on his arse while everyone's fighting!"

"The Chosen One is above such petty skirmishes..." Harry flinches as four spells bash against his charm. "Motherfu—" He leaps up from the couch before blasting a corner table to bits, hence exposing a couple of sixth-years.

"This is unacceptable behaviour!" yells Yasmin, flashing her Head Girl's badge before blasting the two sixth-years with jinxes. "One point from everyone against Harry, because you tossers started this fight."

"Weeeeeee!" Pansy laughs while setting a distant table alight with a fire-making charm. "IT'S A PARTY IN HERE, BABY!"

"That's my girl!" says Harry, coming up beside Pansy as they cast knockback jinxes in sync. " _Flipendo_! On your arse-o, suckers!"

"Why didn't we join that Army of Dumbledore's?" asks Millicent, taking cover from a few seventh-year students' attacks. "Could've learnt to really kick arse, damn."

Greenish lamps are blasted off the ceiling from dozens of stray spells, and it's only when half of Harry's side casts  _Finite Incantatem_  that most of the action ceases.

"Enough effing around," says Yasmin, whose hair appears frazzled from the action, "You want me to call Professor Snape? All of you damn haters, calm your arses, RIGHT BLOODY NOW!"

"Go to hell," says a seventh-year girl, "All of you prat Potter pansies." She kicks over and ignites a table before storming out with the rest of Harry's haters, leaving the friendly students to clean up this trashed room.

"What did she just call us?" asks Harry, while standing beside Yasmin in the centre of the common room.

"Don't mind her. Bitches like that usually end up desperate and jumping on any ugly-arse 'Pureblood supremacist' pole," says a sneering Yasmin. "Oh well, that's not my life so I don't give a damn. Sorry your return had to be so crap, Harry."

"Are you kidding me?" Harry repairs a lengthy table before grinning. "I've been itching for a fight like that!" He then spots an equally exhilarated Pansy grinning nearby. "Just like Pansy, see? It's about time we showed those suckers who's boss around here."

"Maybe we should just stick it to them right before our N.E.W.T.s," says Adrian to Bletchley, while Warrington sits nearby. "Let's screw the rules and play for Team Gryffindor! I don't give a rat's arse anymore."

"WHAT?" yells many a student standing nearby, before Harry shakes his head.

"Nah, leave that to me. So ssshhhhhh, okay? They'll never know what hit 'em. You folks can focus on graduating."

"Yeah," says Warrington, "You've always been Professor Dumbledore's golden boy, Harry. I'm sure he'd allow you to defy the rules like that. You go make those cheating brats pay for making us clean up this mess, argh!"

While everyone else scrambles about the room fixing objects big and small, Harry's approached by an eager Irma. "Are you really gonna break our win streak and steal the Cup?"

"I am the Chosen One."

"Oh, okay," she says, clearly amused at Harry's smug stance, "It'll be an interesting match, though. Maybe I'll ask my brother to come watch as well. But security's a nightmare around school these days. So, I'm not sure if that'll work."

By the time they finally fix up the last smashed item, Snape strides into the common room. It doesn't take long for Yasmin to inform him of this morning's events, to which he immediately looks at Harry. "Perhaps you ought to take up residence at Gryffindor Tower, Potter. At least until the end of this year. I can't be expected to have you on constant watch down here; not with the exams being right around the corner."

"But, sir, we'll miss him—" Pansy looks down then quietens upon catching Snape's glare. "Oh, alright then. Not fair at all..."

"It's always Gryffindor for him," says Daphne, "Feeling homesick, Harry Lion?"

"If you possess the aptitude," says Snape, "Then brave Ravenclaw's riddles."

"I can handle a  _Riddle_ ," says Harry, whose emphasis has Snape narrowing his eyes. "Are you going to punish those hating Slytherins, sir?"

"We shall see; now, off to breakfast, all of you!" Snape ushers them out as Yasmin leads the dozens of students to breakfast. Their expressions part-smug, part-annoyed upon entering the Great Hall. From the looks of things, it's clear to any observer that there's been a row in Slytherin. One quarter of the table sits seething with rage while Harry walks in with the rest. An ugly division to behold, indeed.

From his spot while standing near the double doors, Harry observes the 'good' Slytherins taking their seats. Meanwhile, the hostile seventh-years mutter and whisper amongst one another, causing what appears to be a quarter of the sixth-years to join in. Very few of the second and third-years seem to be against Harry, while the fourth-years have opted against hating him. Chief among the dislike is Malfoy's group of five, glaring at Harry from their seats nearby.

"Psst, over here!" calls Hermione, who Harry swiftly takes a seat beside at the Gryffindor table. "I would ask but the answer's pretty clear now."

More Gryffindors direct their attention towards Harry as he recounts this morning's row. Sparing little details, he sighs before putting his head in his hands with both elbows resting on the table. "This isn't exactly what I was in the mood for, now that I'm back. I've got exams to stress about already. Are they trying to make me fail?"

"Sounds bloody likely," mutters Ron, after having shared a sausage with Lavender. "I wouldn't put it past scum like Malfoy to sabotage you now."

"Agreed," says Ginny, "Especially after you got his dad locked up, at last. Hey, if you fail, we'll share classes, right?"

"No way is Harry failing!" declares Fred, "Umbridge may be gone but if Malfoy wants to play dirty then so can we. Anyone wish to test out our new batch of Puking Pastilles? Let's slip some to those moronic wastes of space called Crabbe and Goyle."

"Where's Angelina?" asks Harry, before spotting the Gryffindor Captain further down the table. "Hey, George, pass on the good news that Snape's banned his team from practicing over this whole week."

"No way!" says George, "He's gotta be joking."

"Snape never makes jokes," says Dean, "That man's immune to humour."

"Why is everyone so shocked?" asks Hermione. "Biased or not, Professor Snape still has to enforce order as a staff member. Yesterday's fight was completely in defiance against school policy, you know!"

"Now, I want you all to please shut up," mutters Harry, leaning forward to address those nearby. "The order's done; Sirius—"

"Oh no, what happened?" asks a shocked Ginny.

"Wha—?" Harry sighs with a laugh. "The  _broomstick order's_  now done; Sirius has loaned out Firebolts for you all. They'll be arriving one week before Team Gryffindor's match."

Smiles cross the face of every Weasley and the rest nearby, which immediately has the hating Slytherins eyeing them suspiciously from across the aisle. Harry, however, sits back and lets out a lengthy sigh of satisfaction at his efforts. Even better, in his opinion, is the prospect of Auror patrols starting tomorrow. After all, Harry's always enjoyed having something refreshingly different around his school.

 


	27. Careers Advice

Throughout the Easter holidays, Harry carries on with his studies while occasionally squeezing in practice games at the Quidditch pitch as well. But the fact that he's forever playing with Angelina's squad soon leads to much speculation around the school. Rumours swiftly surface with regards to Harry's intention of battling against his own House. Therefore, by the end of the second Easter holiday week, he forgoes keeping it secret.

"Yeah," he says, while coming across a few first-year Slytherins in the paved courtyard on Sunday afternoon. "I've got permission to play in the final... for Gryffindor."

"WHAT?" asks a girl, "But why? Why would you do something like that when we have such a glorious win streak? Why play for the enemy? Maybe Nott and the others were right about you after all."

Harry gives a loud guffaw of a laugh, causing an Auror patrolling in the distance to glance his way. "That's exactly why I'm doing this, because this pathetic excuse of a Slytherin team is just... pathetic. They're the biggest bunch of cowards ever, and they're damn discriminative. So what if I have a Muggleborn girlfriend, huh? The Chosen One can do whatever the hell he wants."

"You really shouldn't be going near Muggleb—" The first-year girl is quietened as Harry interrupts.

"Funny how Malfoy and those horrible excuse of Purebloods think they're top of the world, and then my Muggleborn tops their marks. The overall top student of fifth year is Muggleborn; deal with it."

"We don't understand you, Harry Potter!" says a first-year boy. "How...  _why_ are you a Slytherin?"

"Because I kicked Voldemort's arse, that's why. Someone needs to show that our House is not just for the blindly discriminative evil gits. There are good Slytherins around, and I'm the best of them. Voldemort is powerful, sure. He's one of the greatest wizards around, sure. But, at the end of the day, he's so hopelessly misguided that he'll meet his end eventually. And it won't be a good one, that's for sure."

"If you're so great," says another first-year, "Then why'd you run away from our common room? Why have you not faced Draco Malfoy and the other ones picking on you?"

"It's for their own safety," says Harry, "I'd rather not send them to the hospital wing this close to exams. Plus, I've got my own studies to be concerned over; no time for those rejects. Any more questions, firsties?"

The group of youngsters shake their heads before Harry walks off towards the terrace. Then he sighs upon seeing Zabini and Nott coming up the pathway, after they've left the entrance courtyard.

"Why do we keep running into you, Potter? Are you following us?" asks Nott. "This school's got hundreds of students, and yet we keep finding the unwanted ones... namely you."

"How can I be following you if we're walking _towards_  each other?" asks Harry, placing his arms on his sides in order to have one hand closer to his pocket.

"Lucky for you, we don't have the time nor do we care for uneducated conversation," says Zabini. "Careers advice meetings are coming up, so Theo and I are due to meet Professor Snape on Tuesday. Too bad every field requires certain high standards... Too bad for you, that is."

"I thought you lazy arse Pureblood snobs don't care for jobs? Thought you just sit at home all day grovelling over Lord Voldemo—" Harry whips out his wand split seconds before Zabini and Nott can do the same. "Don't make me hurt you, losers."

Footsteps can be heard behind Harry as the patrolling Auror comes rushing towards them. From the sound of his voice, Harry reckons that it's John Dawlish.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?"

"Career practice; Aurors need to bag and grab the evil folks out there."

Dawlish grips his wand while looking from Harry to the two (overly fearful) Slytherins. "Considering what we know about you, Potter, I'd be sceptical of trying out for an Auror. Now, put that wand away before someone gets hurt. I don't want any skirmishes like last week because we aren't here to babysit student fights."

"Of course, sir," says Harry, with a slight bow of the head before walking past Zabini and Nott towards the entrance courtyard. He takes one look over his shoulder to see Dawlish eyeing the pair suspiciously, before Harry whispers. "Yeah, Dumbledore kicked your arse a few months back, you uptight prat."

For Harry, the disputes steadily worsen as news of him playing for Gryffindor spreads throughout the school. But, with the O.W.L.s closing in, he cares little for wasting time on arguments. Instead, he peruses various career leaflets and carries on revising as Sunday soon fades to a busy Monday. The conclusion of the Easter holidays sees more students returning to school, which, for Harry, brings a familiar feeling of being stared at again.

"Ah, doesn't it feel great to have classes again?" asks an excited Harry, while seated at the Slytherin table. "Don't we have a free period first thing on a Monday?"

"Yep," says Pansy, seated beside him, "And then it's off to Potions before lunch. Oh, it's so lovely to have you back, Harry!"

"It sure is," adds Millicent, sitting opposite Harry while Tracey and Daphne nod in agreement too. Sally-Anne nods, while still hidden behind her careers leaflet.

"You know what's funny?" she asks, "I've heard rumours that nobody's planning on continuing Care of Magical Creatures next year. I think everyone's fed up of, no offense to Harry, Hagrid's ways. N.E.W.T. year will be tough enough without endangering ourselves with Hagrid's idea of lessons."

"The hell?" Harry looks up after swallowing a whole fried egg. "Don't be prats, guys, let's carry on with that subject."

"What? Why?" asks Daphne, "It's time to prioritize what's really important, Harry. We need to put sentimentality aside and focus on the N.E.W.T.s that'll carry us forward in life. I, for one, am not going to end up a lazy arse Pureblood snob. No, sir!"

Seconds later sees the morning owl post arrive in the packed Great Hall. Most noticeable among the owls is Hedwig, whose joyous spirit doesn't go unnoticed.

"Aw, your owl's doing circles up there, Harry, look!" says Pansy, "I guess we're not the only girls glad to have you back for term. Oh here she comes! I'll feed her."

Indeed, Hedwig swoops down upon Harry after her fifth display of zipping circles in the air. She then drops him a letter before being nibbling on some treats in Pansy's hand.

"Off you go, girl, and stay safe!" says Pansy, watching the snowy owl take off with a loud hoot. "I love that owl."

While many students receive their copies of the  _Daily Prophet_  from delivery owls, Harry reads through his letter from Sirius which only confirms his ideas. "My godfather says I'd be best suited to two fields: Quidditch and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He says it's my choice in life."

"I think you'd make a world class player," says Tracey, "Whether that be Chaser or Seeker, it doesn't matter. You could almost be the Viktor Krum of England, yeah!"

"Oh that's lovely, I so can't wait!" Harry puts on an exaggerated grin. "Me zipping around and having the time of my life in the air—"

"Yes! You'll be the greatest player  _ever_ ," says Pansy.

"—and then I take a nasty curse from Lord Voldemort or his followers hidden amongst the crowd..."

None of the girls speak over the next few minutes as they glance sadly at Harry. Then, Pansy shuts her leaflet before sighing. "It's not fair; your life, I mean."

 _Neither can live while the other survives_ ,  _and_   _I'm so screwed,_ thinks Harry, before putting on a smile to maintain appearances. "I'll have to become an Auror, for my own sake. There's no telling when the final showdown between Voldemort and I will be."

"At least you won't be alone," says Pansy, "I've decided upon pursuing a career in politics. We'll still see each other lots and lots, like jelly tots—"

"Like  _what_?" asks Millicent.

"—at the Ministry then, won't we? That's besides the fact that we'll be living happily at home too... Um, well, I dunno about mom still working for the Dark Lord. Damn, things are really messed up nowadays..." Pansy sighs while dropping her smile. "It's not fair; it's really not all fair."

"Don't let me hold you back, Pansy," says Harry, "I'm the Chosen One that's going to fight Voldemort. You do whatever your heart desires in life." He remains smiling while inwardly feeling a sense of dread.  _I'm a marked man; it's either me or Tom that's going to die..._

"If you're going underground then so am I," says Pansy, while the other girls smile. "The Ministry won't know what hit it when Pansy Parkinson, perhaps add a 'Potter' afterwards, walks through those doors!"

"What?" asks Sally-Anne, "You planning on running for Minister someday?"

"Ha!" Pansy nearly spits out her gulp of milk from laughing, then she swallows before replying, "That's most likely to be Granger, seriously. I've come to terms with the fact that there's just no beating her grades. That, and she'll definitely, one-hundred percent, be Head Girl in two years' time." Pansy takes a moment to glance across the aisle at Hermione, who's keenly reading through a few career leaflets "Yeah, Granger's a future Minister, if I ever saw one. I suppose there's no shame in me becoming the next best thing. Would be a pleasure to kick that fat pink toad out of office, oh yes indeed."

"Grab 'em both while they're available, Harry," says Daphne, "You'll literally be in bed with the Ministry of Magic then. Or, in your case, your Mistress of Magic and Senior Undersexretary, hehehe."

Harry's cheeks redden as he finishes his pancakes filled with strawberry jam. "Too far, Daphne, that's gone too far. Oh, what the hell? To make it even better; did you girls know that Fleur's also considering a career in politics? She's thinking about someday going along the lines of International Magical Cooperation."

Tracey smirks while winking at Harry. "Imagine if you're Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement someday, and your wives are the Minister, Senior Undersecretary, and Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. You'll run the friggen Ministry, if not the entire wizarding world of Britain, Harry."

"He'll have influence outside the U.K too, you know," says Pansy, patting Harry on the back. "Mr. Chosen One Auror and his part-Veela beauty who's cooperating with the overseas people. See, the future might not be as bleak as you'd think, baby Potter."

"That's all nice and perfect, but you're forgetting about Lord Voldemort still being at large," says Harry. "He'll never stop planning to kill me..."

Pansy scoffs. "You'll run the bloody Ministry and can sic people on the Dark Lord's army."

"...and he might plan on targeting those closest to me," says Harry, eyeing the girls without so much as smiling now. "So, for the time being, I'd rather not discuss things like marriage. Everything's so damn uncertain with me, you know? I've got far too much baggage"—He points to his scar—"in my life to be considered."

"It doesn't matter," says Daphne, "You'll drown in sorrow at this rate. Think happy thoughts, Harry Potter. You'll be teaching your kids how to fly a broom, because they'll most likely get their dad's kick arse skills. You'll take them to Diagon Alley before first year, and you will watch them choose their wand. Don't come here with your 'woe is me' nonsense, boy."

"Well said, Daphne," says a clapping Tracey, "Yes, we all need to remain positive no matter what happens from here on out."

"And if it makes you feel better," says Millicent to Harry, "You'll be sticking it to all the upright overly blood discriminative bitches out there. Think about it: you, Granger, Delacour, and Pansy... what do you notice with this group?"

"We're all different," says Harry, "Half-Blood, Muggleborn, Pureblood, and part-Human..."

"But your kids will basically all be the same, right?" asks Sally-Anne, "They'll all technically be Half-Blood. So, society can get stuffed when Mister Chosen One has one of everything in his family, yeah? If people make fun of a Muggleborn kid in the future, then that kid can say 'Shut it, Harry Potter's got a Muggleborn wife'. If a Half-Blood gets bullied, they can reference you. If a part-Human kid gets picked on, same thing, et cetera. Cool, huh?"

Harry gives a slight laugh while looking down at his plate. "Man, you girls went way too deep and dramatic there. I've hardly thought about it that way, really. Deep stuff, girls, very deep."

"WHOA!" shouts Yasmin from further down the table, causing many students to look her way. Then, as others read through their newspapers, more heads now turn Harry's way.

"What's the deal?" he whispers, before Pansy gasps. She then shoves his empty plate aside to make space for the  _Daily Prophet_.

"Page two, Harry. See? There's so much to be happy about nowadays, so smile your pretty face!" Pansy points out a headline that says it all:

_**MINISTRY OFFERS APOLOGIES: HARRY POTTER TO BE RECOMPENSED** _

Daphne beams with a smile. "No more damn moping around, alright? It says here that you've been officially recognised as a valid winner of the Triwizard Tournament."

"Alyssa deserves it more than me," mutters Harry, before Pansy looks down.

"Big P's gone; no sense in crying anymore. I'm sure she'd have wanted you to have this, so take it and move on."

"But that's not all," adds Daphne, "The Ministry's also indemnified you with... my gosh...  _ten thousand_ Galleons! What the friggen hell?"

"Oh, that!" laughs Harry, "Yeah, they owe me big time for all the crap I've been through." He then explains about the little spat with Fudge during one Wizengamot trial. "That fool should consider himself lucky it didn't all come from his pockets. Ah, a nice little top-up for my vault. So, I suppose Pansy's only gonna love me for the money now—OUCH!"

After kicking Harry beneath the table, Pansy narrows her eyes and speaks in a low, seething tone. "Don't you  _dare_  suggest that I'm a Gold Digger, Potter. Take it back."

"Maybe you are," laughs Harry, as Pansy stamps his foot again. "Okay, okay! You're not a Gold Digger. More like, A Knut Digger or... aha!"

"Don't say it," warns Pansy.

"Nut Digger, and by 'nut' I mean... Fine, I take it back."

Pansy tilts her nose in the air while smiling. "Pretty big mouth now, Mister Chosen One. But don't forget that I took charge in that bathtub, ha!"

The bell rings to signal the start of summer term once the clock hits nine. While students hurry from their seats to exit the Great Hall, Harry casually finishes more breakfast. Many a head turns his way as Harry stands up to stretch and grin.

"How much coin do you have in your vault these days, Harry?" asks Daphne, "Just curious, so don't get the wrong idea."

"Somewhere between thirty to forty thousand Galleons," Harry grins while doing a little dance. "I'm so loaded."

"I think I've got around five thousand Galleons in my vault," says Pansy, "See, I'm doing okay too. Now then, rich boy, let's go fly."

"Just because I love Quidditch doesn't mean you girls have to force yourselves to join," says Harry, as they exit the castle before crossing the entrance courtyard.

"Nonsense!" says Tracey, "I'm expecting nepotism next year, Captain, so we'll all show our skills."

"There's no way I'm getting Captaincy over Nott; he'll never step down, full stop."

As the group of six descend the slopes, they double check to ensure nobody's following them en route to the Quidditch stadium. Here, they enter the Slytherin locker room which Harry has not seen in quite a while.

"Day dreaming and reminiscing time again," says Daphne, while Harry stands still in the centre of the room before speaking.

"I'll keep watch in case anyone comes down the tunnel."

"Oh no," says Pansy, "You're gonna get changed into your Quidditch robes. It's been far too long since I've seen a beauty in green." She shuts the door before locking it with  _Colloportus_.

"There's no need to change for a casual game—"

"Shut up and change!" orders Pansy, to which Harry grins and changes to his Quidditch robes. "Too bad you didn't get naked; how boring."

"Why don't you just walk around bare if it intrigues you so much?" asks Harry, before Pansy winks.

"I'll leave that for when we're living in our future home, Harry. Now let's go get our brooms, because I'm not flying any used by Nott and the rest of the rot,  _Alohomora_!"

"Yeah," agrees Harry, while looking around at the Firebolts lining the back of the locker room. "Bloody show-off arseholes."

As soon as the group of six step out, they spot some of Slytherin's current team entering the tunnel. "Oh no you don't," says Malfoy, brandishing a piece of parchment. "We've got permission to practice here until Potions."

Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle now immediately flank Malfoy. "You're a disgrace to those colours, Potter," sneers Nott. "You'll see what happens come May the 9th, you damn Gryffindork."

"Fine," says Harry, much to the surprise of his group. "Go ahead and get in all the practice you'd like. But nothing's gonna stop the Chosen One from breaking our streak; because he can! Shall we be off then, girls?"

Pansy glares at a smug Malfoy as Harry swiftly returns to change into uniform. He then shoves his way past the boys while the girls follow in line. Once clear of the stadium, Pansy tugs on Harry's sleeve. "We could've taken them on! Why'd you run away?"

"My Muggle uncle used to say: 'You gotta play the game to win the game'. So, I'll let our team think they've got things covered... Wait until the delivery on the second of May, just you damn wait. The shock will send Nott and friends into a frenzy of practice that'll be counterproductive. Are you girls ready to see a Firebolt showdown in the final? Gryffindor will have one week to practice  _out here_  on those brooms..."

"Please don't tell me you're buying them all Firebolts, Harry," says Daphne, "There's still next year and thereafter to consider."

"Nah, Sirius has loaned out those brooms for just a week. So let us go practice on our own, alright?" Harry leads the way back towards the castle while Sally-Anne pokes him in the side.

"Um, you just fled the stadium, remember? How are we going to practice?"

"The Room of Requirement, of course."

He takes them up to the seventh floor before urging the room to become the same pitch he's previously used. Then he savours the look of sheer amazement on his girls' faces while explaining this pitch.

"Sounds like a jumping castle, in some ways," says Pansy, before tackling Harry onto the grassy pitch then sitting atop him. "Hey, why don't we leave the Quidditch and do some other practice? No offense, Harry, but I think we'd all love a taste of your Dumbledore's Army stuff right now."

Daphne, Tracey, Sally-Anne, and Millicent drop their Nimbus 2001 brooms and nod their heads in agreement.

"We truly do love Quidditch," says Sally-Anne, "But let's do some magic! Come on, Chosen One!"

"Alright then, let's exit the room first," he ushers them out before having the room become the D.A. practice area once more. They then enter, and Harry smiles as the girls express their wonder and regret at not having previously joined.

"Why didn't you come find us, huh?" demands Daphne, poking Harry in the side. "You took in the Head Girl but not us? Why?"

"Leave him," says Pansy, "He just wanted us to miss him, right? You know I'm right, Harry. I know you well enough by now."

"How can I make it up to you girls? Wanna do jinxes, hexes, or curses? No Unforgivables, sorry."

Tracey pauses for thought before snapping her fingers. "Aha! Teach us the Patronus Charm, and we might just forgive you."

"Yes, I want to see my animal," agrees Pansy, "Don't we all?"

"Patronus it is then," Harry takes up position in the centre of the area while the handful of girls eagerly listen. "A Patronus is a kind of anti-Dementor; a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the—"

"We know what a Patronus is, duh," says Tracey. "Skip to the 'how' instead of 'what' part, please."

"Shame, you girls are killing Harry's moment," says Millicent, "Let him bask in his Professor role."

"Do carry on, Professor Potter," says Pansy, gesturing for the others to be quiet. "Shut it, ladies."

"It's a positive force, a projection of the very things Dementors feed upon. So, consider it a nice little, or not so little, decoy for you to hold your ground, fend them off, or escape. Be warned though, conjuring a Patronus in the safety of this room is miles different than doing it in the presence of a Dementor."

Pansy raises her hand, and Harry permits her to speak. "I take it they don't kill the Dementors?"

"No," says Harry, "We can't really kill 'em. Or at least I've never seen a Dementor perish. Now then, I want you each to concentrate hard on your happiest memory. Feel the surge of joy and nostalgia flowing through you while holding your wand to cast  _Expecto Patronum_!"

Five girls take up positions, scattered throughout the room, as they practice for the next twenty minutes on end. Yells of the required incantation come firm and fast, and Harry observes wisps of silvery smoke erupting from their wands. A shriek of joy soon has him spinning to see Pansy being circled around by...

"A raven!" he gasps, seeing the rather large common raven soaring around Pansy, while letting out a raspy croak sound. It then perches itself on a most delighted Pansy's shoulder as the girls surround her with applause. Harry smiles until thinking about over a year ago; the day that he'd seen Alyssa produce a crow Patronus.

"Is that a raven or a crow? I can't tell the difference!" says Sally-Anne, trying to grab at the shining bird perched quite commandingly upon Pansy's shoulder. "Maybe you should've been a Ravenclaw, get it?"

While the others seem to have forgotten, Pansy has not, and she now looks straight at Harry. "Shouldn't it have been the other way around? A raven's bigger than a crow, so why'd my older cousin get the smaller bird?"

"The what now?" asks Daphne, before realisation dawns on her face. "Oh... now I remember. When the dragon was guarding her eggs; your cousin clinched it with her Patronus. I'm so sorry, Pansy..."

"For what?" she asks, shrugging while smiling at her Patronus. "I'm done grieving and mourning. She would've been proud to see my big shiny bird; bigger than hers too."

"I wonder," says Harry, while pacing and glancing at Pansy, "if it's because, well, don't take this the wrong way..."

"Oh just spit it out, man," says Pansy, "I'm not gonna break down in tears when I know she's in a better place. Say whatever's on your mind."

"I wonder if her bird was smaller because her life was shorter? Assuming you don't die within the next few years too," says Harry, causing Pansy to blink in astonishment.

"M-Maybe, I guess," she then looks upward at the large, watchful raven while smiling. "Never mind that, my big bird's gonna look after and protect me good. No Dementor can dare seek to harm the mighty Little P!"

And with that, Pansy's Patronus gives a commanding 'kraa' call before it's dispelled. Minutes pass by before two more corporeal Patronuses coalesce, and two girls hop in delight.

"I've got a tigress, wow!" says Millicent, watching her Patronus run circles around her while Daphne speaks:

"There's mine, look!" she beams as a ragdoll cat sits purring beside her. "So utterly adorable."

Tracey and Sally-Anne, though, remain struggling as their Patronuses fail to take form. But Harry gives them a smile, nonetheless. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, you two. I know plenty of adults that can't conjure a Patronus. So give it time and yours will come someday."

"Man, I so wanted to see my inner animal," sighs Tracey, now pocketing her wand and crossing her arms.

"Me too," agrees Sally-Anne, standing beside Tracey as Daphne wraps her arms around the two girls' shoulders.

"Don't be so glum; good things come to those who wait. I wasn't expecting my kitty cat to show up at all, you know."

"Would you ladies like to continue practicing or shall we start heading to the dungeons? It's going for half past ten already," says Harry.

"Come on," says Pansy, "Half an hour left, so let's move before we're late for our first class of term."

They rush down to the dungeons and arrive fifteen minutes before eleven, just as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins exit. All eyes stare at Harry before the youngsters rush off to their next lessons. Harry now enters the Potions classroom to take his seat facing Pansy.

"Aren't you sitting with Granger?" she asks.

"I think I'll give Hermione a bit of space for today," says Harry, as the rest of the class enter to take their seats. "More importantly, let's focus on today's revision. What are we doing?"

His answer comes by way of Snape walking in and saying "Invigoration Draught," to the class. "So, unless you wish to disgrace yourselves by failing; get started on your brewing! Where are those two... Crabbe and Goyle?" He asks, as the lesson begins with students preparing their ingredients.

"Draco took them to the hospital wing earlier," says Zabini, "They suddenly started vomiting quite profusely, sir. Must've ate something bad."

"It was bad," says Malfoy, "Suspiciously so."

"And none of you thought to inform me before class?" asks Snape who, to Harry's surprise, glares at Nott's group.

"It's Potter's fault, I swear!" says Nott, "Crabbe and Goyle never vomit after eating anything, and they eat a lot. It's gotta be Potter and those Weasley twins pulling nasty pranks with their sweets."

Harry swiftly stops Pansy from retaliating at Nott's (admittedly truthful) accusations. Snape, however, simply warns Nott to keep such 'unfounded allegations' to himself in this class.

"I will deal with those two later," says Snape, "As for the rest of you, remain focused on the task at hand. Need I remind this class that my minimum standard for next year is an Outstanding in your O.W.L.? Anything less and you can forget about being here come September. I don't have time for dunderheads at N.E.W.T. level."

Pansy sighs while carrying on with her draught. "Well, Harry, it's been lovely working with you in Potions..."

"Don't give me that crap," he whispers, while "Now you're just giving up."

"Easy for you to say; not everyone gets the occasional O in class..." Pansy tries to appear calm, although she remains scowling throughout today's class. Once the bell rings, everyone bottles their sample of draught before placing them on Snape's desk. Then it's off to a rather quiet lunch as many fifth-years wonder about their future careers.

"Enjoy History of Magic," says Harry after lunch, before hurrying down to Snape's office where the Potions master awaits. The latter now gestures for Harry to take a seat at the desk, which is stacked with career leaflets.

"Regardless of your rushed return to fifth year, Potter, the onus is on you to move forward," says Snape, while surveying Harry from behind his desk. "Before we begin this discussion, tell me what happened here..." He tosses a copy of Harry's third-year report, on which the Defence Against the Dark Arts mark is underlined. "How ironic that your father's own friend had scored you that low. Fifty percent? A barely scraped 'Acceptable' in the Chosen One's supposed field of expertise?"

"I, uh, this is embarrassing..." Harry retells the story of his Riddle-self Boggart, and how he'd lied to Lupin in favour of Hermione's grade. "It's not my fault that I was, well, am fascinated by her, sir."

Snape gives him an odd look for a moment before swiping back the report. "Any more academic heroics I should be aware about, Potter?"

"No, sir."

"I wouldn't call this meeting Careers Advice more than it's to highlight the only path available to you," says Snape, folding his arms while seated in his chair.

"Sirius said I should also consider going into Quidditch, seeing as I've got a real talent for it."

"Then I suppose that wretched idiot will have to learn all the counter-curses he can," Snape narrows his eyes while observing Harry. "The Dark Lord has only recently returned to full strength, as I'm sure you remember from last year. If you thought Quirrell's attempts to murder you were bad, then you're in for a shock, Potter. Go into Quidditch someday, and your next goal might be your last; your next Snitch as well. Your broom could snap in two—in midair—with you on it. An incoming Bludger could suddenly become a knife or blade aimed at your throat. The Dark Arts doesn't rest, Potter, and neither do its followers. A 'fan' might hurry up to you before the game, and whatever gift you so eagerly accept may carry a curse... if not a Portkey. Need I carry on explaining? For I can write an O-grade essay right here, right now, on the many ways you could meet your end at Quidditch."

"I think you're forgetting something very important, sir," says Harry, while Snape appears sceptical. "The Dark Lord wants to kill me in a manner that satisfies his ego. He's been in my head already, and I can tell he's desperate to do me in with the Killing Curse. The same spell that made me famous and wounded his pride long ago. So, I doubt he'd resort to such cowardly means from the spectator stands."

"Oh yes, very ingenious, Potter," sneers Snape, "Now, imagine flying right into a sudden flash of green, before the Dark Lord reveals himself right there to all. Would that not satisfy his ego? Killing the Chosen One right in public while he's showing off his talents? Even better, killing the boy that's busy showing off his blessed father's talent."

Harry refuses to let himself be provoked here, and he therefore subdues his emotions. "Okay, so Quidditch is out of the question then."

"Nearly  _everything_  is 'out of the question' for you, Potter. Has it not occurred to you that Dumbledore, and certain others, have spent years keeping you as safe as can be? Part of that involved calculated risks in allowing you to seek adventure, even more than your father, in order to gain experience. If he'd so desired, the Headmaster could've instantly ceased your discussions with Granger on Nicolas Flamel. But no, the Boy-Who-Lived needs to live his blessed life and gain experience. And for what? To become a mere Quidditch player?" Snape scoffs while leaning back in his seat. "Use your brain, Potter, the same one that forces me to average your grades on Exceeds Expectations. A slight push and you may achieve an Outstanding in your O.W.L., and therefore continue with Potions next year."

"So... I should run for Minister of Magic then, right?" asks Harry, inwardly enjoying the calm annoyance displayed by his Head of House.

"You'd be dead before getting to redecorate your office, Potter."

"I want to be an Auror," says Harry.

"For your own sake, yes," adds Snape. "How unfortunate that there has not been any successful applicants in the last three years."

Snape's statement elicits a sigh from Harry before the latter speaks. "The Auror, Dawlish, said I shouldn't have my hopes up for this field. Something about them knowing things about me."

"The Auror Department is known to deploy a stringent series of character and aptitude tests on potential applicants," says Snape, while grabbing hold of a small, dark leaflet from the pile on his desk. "You have demonstrated some ability to survive under pressure..." In Harry's opinion, any compliment containing 'some' means a lot, coming from Snape. "...then, one requires much perseverance and dedication as well, seeing as it takes an additional three years of intense training."

"I've spent nearly this whole year laying low and waiting. Surely that counts towards me being dedicated and perseverant, sir?"

"Perhaps," says Snape, "And let us not forget that the Auror Department is known to analyse the history of their applicants..."

Harry shifts rather uncomfortably in his seat. "I sure have a colourful history of being cleared of all charges. Plus, they know I'm capable of producing a Killing Curse, damn."

"Naturally, the Aurors are wary of you, Potter. But, given the current state of affairs, joining them presents your best chance of survival."

"How ironic," mutters Harry, "So, I'm dead meat in any other career besides honing my skills and chasing after the bad guys."

"You could open a store... then be murdered," says Snape casually, "Or perhaps the Chosen One could work at St. Mungos... then be exposed to an attack. Healing, while useful, will not save you from the Dark Lord's might. Perhaps pursue a field in Magizoology then go on many an expedition? Perfect opportunity for an attack by the Dark Lord."

"Everything I do is shadowed by the Dark Lord!" says Harry, "What makes you think actively chasing the evil folk will be safer for me, sir? Wouldn't it be better to get a post at Hogwarts? There's no safer place than this."

"What you're forgetting, Potter, is the prophecy. Hiding at Hogwarts might work in the short term, but then you'd grow complacent. Besides, what post do you expect to have in the next few years? It's only ever Defence Against the Dark Arts which opens up, and we all suspect that it's cursed."

Harry pauses for thought while still seated before Snape's desk. "I could stay here and let Professor Dumbledore mentor me, right? That'll solve almost everything, and I'd be ready to destroy Voldemort."

Snape shrugs a slight bit. "A reasonable solution, but one that's inherently flawed. Complacency, Potter, hiding got your father killed."

"And my mother too, funny how you never mention—"

"Your father thought the Fidelius Charm could keep them safe. To be fair, they might've lived longer if not for Black's 'ingenious' plan."

"They might've lived longer if not for whoever the hell snitched half the prophecy to Voldemort!" says Harry, wondering who'd be that desperate to please the Dark Lord. The only person who comes to mind is Bellatrix, but he can't imagine her sneaking into the Hog's Head undetected. Perhaps it was Wormtail?

"Yes, well, I'm sure whoever that was is sorely suffering for their mistake," says Snape, "My point is, you are not your father... in some ways. He did not have a prophecy condemning him to kill the Dark Lord, which you are destined to do. Therefore, for your own sake, you would be better off under pressure from training to become an Auror. Any other choice in life would soften you up for the Dark Lord, and that includes staying here expecting the Headmaster to teach you everything."

"Then I suppose it would be best to have both," admits Harry, sinking back in his chair. "Become an Auror and seek out Professor Dumbledore's guidance; that'd set me straight for one day facing the Dark Lord."

"You will need at least five N.E.W.T.s of no less than Exceeds Expectations. Potions, I daresay, is of only slight concern at the moment." Snape reads through Harry's academic folder before continuing to speak. "Professor McGonagall requires an E.E. grade to enter her N.E.W.T. level class; I see you've been graded more Exceeds Expectations than Acceptable in the past. If I were you, Potter, I'd stick to studying with those friends of yours, including Granger. For Defence Against the Dark Arts... besides your heroic sacrifice, your grades have remained between Exceeds Expectations and Outstanding. Both Professors Lupin and Moody have nothing less than praise for your efforts."

"I just hope we get a competent Professor for Defence next year. So, Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts; all essential for an Auror's work," says Harry, "Might as well throw in Charms too, seeing as the bad guys use many evil spells."

Snape nods in agreement. "Add in Herbology as well, or have you forgotten about Boderick Bode?"

"Right," nods Harry, "Very important to identify dangerous plants, et cetera. And speaking of 'dangerous', I reckon it'll be useful to continue with Care of Magical Creatures too. Better safe than sorry, I suppose."

"That all depends on what the gamekeeper decides to do at N.E.W.T. level, Potter. As knowledgeable as Professor Hagrid might be, his methods are often questionable at best. In all honesty, it would be sink or swim in that class for you then. Fine, I shall make a note of your decision." Snape writes down a rather lengthy note in Harry's folder. "Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I do not think you are capable of handling any more N.E.W.T. level subjects, Potter."

"So, I'll just ditch Astronomy, Divination and History of Magic then. Not like I really have time to consistently cram all that into my already rushed study schedule," says Harry.

"You'll need to prioritize, Potter, especially considering how this year has gone." Snape shuts Harry's folder then stands up from his desk. "The only Divination you should be concerned about now is the prophecy, and tracking the celestial bodies will do nothing to thwart the Dark Lord."

"And I  _am_  History of Magic, right?"

"Arrogance, Potter, keep it in check."

"Right, sorry, sir," says Harry, as Snape ushers him towards the office door.

"That concludes our Careers Advice session. Off to your next class, now."

The door shuts once Harry's out in the dungeon corridor again. He checks his watch to see that it's already three o'clock, which means he's late for his first session with up to a trio of familiar faces. Harry all but sprints out the dungeons and up the grand staircase towards the third floor. Five minutes pass by before he finally rushes down the serpentine corridor, and into Classroom 3C.

"You're late, Potter," says Moody, "It'll have to be three points from Slytherin."

"Three?" Harry looks around at the mix of fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors staring at him. "Make it ten, sir."

"WHAT?" asks Zabini, whose baffled expression is shared by all, including Tonks and Lupin at the desk.

"Make it twenty, actually," says Harry, walking to take a seat beside Hermione at the front of the class. "That should start covering the crap caused by the Inquisitorial Squad."

"Very well then," says Moody, "Twenty points from Slytherin for tardiness, Potter."

"Much appreciated, sir, thank you." Once Harry sits, he smiles at an amused Hermione, but then overhears the Slytherin boys far behind and to his left.

"He's bloody spiteful, did that on purpose," says Nott. "Why'd he have to be in our House, damn!"

"Forget it," says Malfoy, "Just bear with this trio of idiot teachers so we can get to our O.W.L.s. Maybe they'll teach us duelling or something."

"I heard that, Malfoy," says Lupin, standing up as Tonks rises as well. "Five points from Slytherin for insulting your new teachers. Now, please pay attention and work hard; I'd suggest not following in your father's footsteps."

Harry looks behind and to his left while grinning at the snarling Malfoy. Hermione, meanwhile, whispers to him before Moody begins this lesson.

"So, how'd your Careers Advice session go?"

"It was more of a death consultation, to be honest. I either strive to be an Auror or die early, yep." He tries to give a kind smile as Hermione gasps. "I'm going to be an Auror someday."

"Yes you will, Harry!" says Tonks, having walked past and overheard some of their conversation.

"Sorry, what?" asks Moody to Tonks, before she smiles and replies:

"I overheard Harry saying that he's going to become an Auror." Tonks then points to herself. "It's clear where he's gotten his inspiration from, hahaha!"

"Yes, ma'am; thank you, ma'am," says Harry, grinning at the groans coming from the other Slytherin boys. As if this day couldn't get any better, Harry gasps in delight as none other than Sirius Black enters the classroom. "What the—"

Standing with an empty bin in one hand, and a sack full of coin in the other, Sirius greets the surprised class. "I'm temporarily filling in for Mr. Filch over the next few minutes. Rubbish collection, kids, now please hand over your Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks."

"Are we having a class or a rotten joke?" asks Zabini, "Those books cost us 6 Galleons and they're quite informative! Potter, take your godfather away so we can actually start learning something. Damn, I knew Professor Umbridge brought more order than this circus..."

Sirius smiles while winking at the rest of the class. "Firstly, that book is absolute trash. Secondly, I'll pay 10 Galleons for such trash—" He can barely finish his sentence before nearly everyone rummages through their bags to withdraw their copies of  _Defensive Magical Theory._

"He's paying! He's paying!" yells an ecstatic Ron, shoving his way through the line of students to slam his book into the bin. "Thanks, Sirius!" He grins before pocketing the coin and strutting back to his seat. Soon, everyone but five Slytherin students find their bags jingling with more Galleons.

"Any volunteers? Some practical work might be needed here," says Sirius, after placing the bin in front of the class.

"Don't you dare, Potter..." mutters Zabini, as Harry leaps from his seat to take aim at the bin full of Umbridge's required textbooks.

_"Incendio!"_

"A point to Slytherin for such a fine fire-making charm, Harry," says Lupin, as the classroom glows orange.

Moody gestures to the disintegrating bin while addressing the class. "See that? Try talking your way out of most life-threatening scenarios with evil folks... and that might be you. Better to make an escape or put up a fight. Talking gets you nowhere unless you're an ally of theirs. And if you are, well, that's your foolish decision in life."

"Right," says Tonks, "With the recent mass revolt from the Dementors guarding Azkaban, we feel that it's appropriate to start with the Patronus Charm. Yes, I'm aware that your previous curriculum has left your practical skills at dreadful levels, but let's give it a go. Remember, even some Ministry folk cannot produce a corporeal Patronus, so there's no shame in struggling here. Remus, would you kindly explain the workings of a Patronus?"

"I certainly can, Professor Tonks," replies a beaming Lupin, and Harry can almost quote him verbatim as Lupin gives his explanation. "... so, conjuring a Patronus in the safety of this room is far different than when encountering a Dementor or Lethifold, but we all start somewhere. I'm sure Harry can tell you all how difficult it was when I taught him against a Dementor."

"Can we try against one, sir?" asks Parvati, seated somewhere to Harry's right. "Wouldn't that be more realistic and practical?"

"My Boggart was a Dementor," says Harry, "That won't work for the rest of you, since it'll change during a confrontation."

"Yes," agrees Lupin, "and let's not bother with a Lethifold. They're even harder to obtain than a Dementor which, nowadays, is impossible. So, I suppose you're peeved off about sitting all lesson long in Defence Against the Dark Arts this year, right?"

More than a few students wholeheartedly agree with Lupin, though Harry acts as if he's never been to Umbridge's class.

"What's the point of this lesson?" asks Malfoy, "Dementors can't be killed; they can only be stopped, and why would anyone care? If you run into one, then it's your fault for being unguarded."

"Two points from Slytherin for such a stupid statement, Malfoy," says Moody. "Just because your father's on You-Know-Who's side doesn't give you the right to sabotage this class."

"Well, there's nothing for me to be happy about at the moment," says Malfoy bitterly. "Why bother with a Patronus?"

"Don't blame us," says Tonks, "We're not responsible for your father's life choices, kid."

"I'm with Draco," says a snarling Nott. "Don't expect us to stand here and smile with happy memories while our fathers are locked away!"

"I agree with Theo," says Zabini, "even if I don't have a dad in jail."

"I don't want a Patronus," adds Crabbe.

"Don't care," mutters Goyle. "Dark Lord is using them anyway, so why must we fight them?"

"SHUT IT!" shouts Harry, standing up even as everyone else looks at him. "This one class could— _would_ —be more valuable than your entire fifth-year Defence so far!"

"Well said, Harry," says Sirius, "Trust in Remus, Tonks, and Moody; they know what they're doing."

"Obviously, this won't come in our O.W.L!" argues Nott. "The exams are likely based on Professor Umbridge's curriculum, since they were Ministry-approved throughout the year."

"No," says Moody, "The exams are now set according to your previous  _useful_  years of this class. So that does not include Quirrell, Lockhart nor Umbridge's work. That's especially true with the recent change in governance."

Malfoy tries to remain as 'polite' as possible while protesting. "Then we already know what to study,  _sir_ , since we still have our textbooks. All of them, from first to this year, that is."

"There are practical components too, Malfoy," says Moody, "Or did you forget how an O.W.L. is taken? I don't recall hearing you kids doing much, or any, practical work in this class over this year."

"Yes," says Zabini, "But we all remember how to  _Riddikulus_  a Boggart, or how to duel anyway. We're not completely hopeless in practical work."

"Put your pride in your pocket," says Harry, "Shut up and let our Professors teach. Or are you that hurt that Umbridge is gone?"

"Funny how the old man gets in all your friends now, Potter," says Nott, with a look of dislike shown towards the three teachers. "It's all pro-Potter these days."

"Be quiet, Nott," says Ron, "Your kind must be used to nepotism anyway. Not our fault Harry and the rest of us kicked your dad's arse at the Ministry."

"But this is not fair on us at all," says Nott, "There's no way we'll be happy and stuff with our fathers disgracefully locked up!"

The three Professors now gather for a quiet bit of discussion before nodding in agreement.

"Fine," says Lupin, "Anyone who refuses to learn the Patronus Charm may write and sign their names on this parchment. We won't be held responsible for whatever happens to you. There's only so much a Professor can do with such blatantly uncooperative students."

While five Slytherin boys sign their names at the Professor's desk, Hermione whispers in disbelief to Harry. "How can they be so thick? This is a magnificent opportunity to learn something useful!"

"They're pissed off that Lupin, Moody and Tonks are part of the Order that locked up their dads. There's nothing our teachers can do about this now, though, since a Patronus requires great joy and happiness."

"And if they fail their exams?" asks Hermione.

"They won't," says Harry, "I know them well enough already. They'll study theory and practice on their own now. Better be back for whatever comes after the Patronus, though."

Malfoy's group scowls at the three teachers before grabbing their bags and walking past a disappointed Sirius, who now speaks:

"You boys sure you wish to do this? There's no guarantee the Dementors won't attack even those in favour of Lord Voldemort—"

"Don't say his name!" says Zabini, "And we don't need help from Potter's friends. What's out there for us to defend ourselves against, anyway? Not like we can't hold our own, goodbye."

And with that, the door shuts as the classroom finds itself down five members.

"Well, that was cheerful," says Lupin, looking to his left and shaking his head at a surprised Tonks. "Can't say I didn't expect anything from that group, though. They're even worse than the hostile seventh-years..."

"Draco Malfoy and the rest are just butthurt over the Ministry incident," says Sirius, causing many students to eagerly lean forward in their desks. "Not our fault if they're depriving themselves from improving. After all, not everyone can conjure up a shield charm like my godson; one that withstood an onslaught led by Lucius Malfoy himself..."

Harry's cheeks heat up as he can almost feel the many stares directed his way.

"...you should've all seen it!" adds Sirius, while Tonks gestures for him to hurry up. "Okay, it was basically Harry and I backed into a corner by Lucius Malfoy, Mulciber, Avery, Rookwood, Rabastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Theodore Nott senior, Jugson, and my cousin... Bellatrix Lestrange. Shield was about to break, though, but Harry did a great job blocking all those attacks nonetheless."

"Sirius..." mutters Harry, "We need to carry on with the class."

"Oh, alright, my bad. Carry on, you three."

Malfoy and his friends' departure does little to sour the mood, and the class of 16 now eagerly anticipate their first useful Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of this year...

 


	28. Patronuses

_Monday, April 19th, 1996._

Defence Against the Dark Arts carries on, and Harry's class are all but quivering with excitement while following their teachers.

"If we're going to have one fair day of weather this week, then we might as well make the most of it," says Tonks, leading the class of sixteen out through the front double doors. "No rain today, kids, so let's enjoy the weak Spring sun!"

"Right, how about breaking up into groups of five?" asks Lupin, "One group per teacher, and Harry's free to walk around if he wants."

"Split will be random," says Moody, "Can't have you kids relying too much on predictability in the real world. BULSTRODE, DUNBAR, PATIL, DAVIS, AND LONGBOTTOM! Over here." He leads his handful to one corner of the entrance courtyard before Lupin speaks to the rest.

"I shall take... Perks, Midgen, Greengrass, Thomas, and Finnigan. Over here, to the other corner, please."

Now it's Tonks who smiles at her leftover group. "So that leaves me with you kids, alright. I know most of you, Weasley, Granger, and Brown, yep. And you two are... Parkinson and Malone, right?"

Harry looks at Tonks, who's standing near the centre of the breezy courtyard. "Surnames? No need to be so formal with us."

"Address me properly, Harry. 'No need to be so formal with us,  _ma'am_.'"

Pansy grins most mischievously. "Put the arrogant boy in his place, Auror lady."

"Let's get started," says Roger Malone, adjusting his woollen cap to cover his ears, though much of his dark blond hair sticks out.

"Oh, come on," sighs Lavender, "It's not  _that_  cold out here, Malone."

While Tonks glances quizzically at the smug expression on Pansy's face, Malone speaks. "If I'm going to be learning how to do a Patronus, then I wanna do so in comfort, thanks. Can't wait to see if it becomes corporeal or not."

"And now?" asks Hermione, frowning a slight bit in confusion while looking at Pansy. "What's got you so smug?"

"I can do a Patronus, Granger, and that's before you," Pansy aims her wand up while still as smug as ever.

"Oh really?" Hermione narrows her eyes while looking from Pansy to a guilty Harry. "Snuck one in, hmm?"

"Caught red-handed," sighs Harry, "Yeah, they dragged me to the room for a Patronus lesson this morning."

"Gosh, you girls are quick learners," says Lavender, before Pansy casts her Patronus.

"That's one  _big_  bird!" gasps Malone, "What is it, exactly?"

"Say hello to my not-so-little friend," says Pansy, as the shining silver raven swoops down to sit upon her shoulder. Then it spreads out its wings in fierce defence as Malone accidentally steps closer to Pansy.

"Yikes!" He swiftly hops backwards. "Are they all so aggressive? Hey, what the—?"

Harry, however, walks right up to Pansy and elicits no hostile response from the raven, which remains perched atop her shoulder. "She doesn't seem to mind me, though," he says, looking slightly up at the watchful Patronus. "Kind of unnerving to have her eyeing all of us like this, isn't it?"

Tonks pats Pansy on the back (while the Patronus now eyes her). "Not too shabby, Parkinson. Why don't we have the others giving it a shot?"

Ron, who's stood aside for a quite awhile, eventually summons a Patronus after his fourth attempt. The Jack Russell terrier races across the courtyard while causing much laughter by tackling Dean and Seamus.

"Oi! Wait till I get me one out," says Seamus, picking himself up as even Lupin has a good laugh.

"Well done, Ron!" he says, "Two already, eh? Come on, kids, let's see if we can beat Professor Tonks' efforts."

"Fat chance, Remus!" shouts a smug Tonks from the centre of the courtyard. "Who's next? Where's my next brilliant student, huh? Oh, that's what I'm talking about!"

Hermione finally manages to cast her corporeal Patronus, and she beams with a loving smile at her...

" _Otter_... WHAT THE HELL?" Harry's yell draws many looks from the class before he simply gawks at a wide-eyed Hermione. "What—in—bloody—hell? Is this for real?"

"What?" she asks, looking greatly appalled at Harry's reaction. "What's wrong with my Patronus, Harry? I think she's sort of nice... right?" The shining silver otter swiftly disappears in connection with Hermione's change in emotion. "I...I don't see any fault with having an otter as a Patronus; how could you!"

"No, no, no! It's just..." Harry looks from the bemused Tonks to a baffled Pansy to everyone else, before setting his gaze upon Professor Lupin. The latter now walks over with a most knowing grin upon his face as he slaps Harry on the back.

"And now? What's going on here?" asks Tonks. "What's the deal with Granger's Patronus? I don't see anything wrong with it."

"Exactly my point!" argues a red-faced Hermione. "Just because mine isn't some big fancy snake that is used to show off at Quidditch matches and stuff."

"I think you've overreacted, mate," says Ron to Harry, "Pretty much hurt her feelings."

" _Hurt_?" asks a scoffing Pansy, "Harry's just decimated Granger now; look at her! What's the deal, Harry? Please do enlighten us all."

"I must admit that I'm curious as well," says Lavender, "There's nothing wrong with Hermione's Patronus, really."

"Professor?" asks Harry, now looking at the grinning Lupin. "What does this mean? Mine was weak, remember?"

"What are they talking about?" asks Malone, to which the group shrugs, and Hermione remains bristling indignantly. But her glare does little to unnerve the sheer curiosity on Harry's part.

"It's to do with experiencing a remarkable emotional upheaval. Correct me if I'm wrong but... weren't you stressed and all that when I first taught you how to do a Patronus?" asks Lupin, eliciting a nod from Harry while everyone else remains bewildered.

"Buckbeak, yes. There was quite a bit of argument and I thought, well, that it was the end."

"No, seriously," says Ron, "What does that Hippogriff have to do with anything? Come on, people, somebody owes Hermione a hectic apology." He gestures towards the still fuming girl who's taken great offense to Harry's reaction. "Patronuses are personal, mate, so it's very offensive to mock someone's spirit animal."

Lupin now addresses the perplexed group standing around him. "Years back, when I first taught Harry how to conjure a Patronus, we practiced against a Boggart Dementor. That was remarkably close to the real thing and its effects."

Harry looks at Hermione as she decides to avoid his gaze, her arms now folded and her cheeks a furious red. "Don't be so angry; this is all just a misunderstanding."

"What? Am I going to hear insults about my otter again? I'll have you know that they can hunt snakes as well! I'm not speaking with you until you offer an apology."

The castle doors suddenly fly open as Sirius comes racing out. Then he spots the livid Hermione glaring at a curious Harry. "What did I miss? Got caught up a bit upstairs. And now? What did you do to her, Harry?"

"Ah, Sirius!" says Lupin, "You may be interested to know that Hermione's Patronus is an otter."

"Well then, that settles it, really," says Sirius, "They're head over heels for each other."

"Hermione loves her Patronus?" asks a gawking Lavender. "What? That's so damn weird!"

"One's Patronus can, in exceptionally rare cases, match another's when experiencing a tremendous amount of emotional ordeal," says Lupin, "That explains why the very first corporeal one, although very weak at the time, that came out of Harry's wand was an otter."

Silence envelopes the group as they look from Harry to Hermione, and the latter's expression immediately fades from rage to a gasp. "Oh, Harry!"

"Oh flippen gosh!" laughs Pansy, "This is the silliest misunderstanding ever. He loves you, Granger, he  _luuuurves_ you so much! And he loves me too, of course. But you scolded him so much, years back, that it all but ended your friendship. Everything over that Hippogriff, remember? Bloody mood swings..."

Hermione nods, and now it's Harry's cheeks that turn a deep shade of red. But it's certainly not out of anger. "So, uh, Hermione... still mad at me?"

Her answer comes in the form of a most radiant smile followed by one splendid Patronus. The otter, shining a bright silver, gambols around its beaming caster. While Harry stands beside Hermione, Lupin grins at Tonks.

"So, Nymphadora—"

"Don't call me that."

"—does this mean that you're in love with that other student? Remember Luna Lovegood from earlier today? She cast a rabbit Patronus, just like you can."

The students glance most curiously at the groaning Tonks, who now swiftly conjures her jackrabbit Patronus. "Very funny, Remus. This is just sheer coincidence, especially considering how many witches and wizards are around. Besides, it's not completely identical!"

Meanwhile, Hermione whispers in Harry's ear as Lupin and Tonks enjoy a bit of banter. "Sorry I overreacted like that, and for making fun of your snake."

"No worries; I'm quite used to your mood swings by now."

"Oh, excuse me."

A loud laugh alerts them to the watchful Moody, who points from across the courtyard. "Wasting time, are we? I've got two going already!"

Indeed, Millicent and Fay stand admiring their Patronuses running about. The tigress and beagle now race across the courtyard.

"That's mine," says a proud Millicent, "The tigress!"

"Don't you just love my beagle?" asks Fay, watching her Patronus leaping in and out from the courtyard to the surrounding cloister.

As the lesson moves on, there are still numerous students unable to produce more than an incorporeal Patronus. These include Parvati, Neville, Sally-Anne, Tracey, Eloise, Dean, Lavender, and Malone.

"There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, kids," says Lupin to the above-mentioned students. "Always bear in mind that even some skilled wizards struggle with producing a corporeal Patronus. We'll have two to three more extra lessons on these while moving on with our practical curriculum." He then looks at Seamus' fox, and Daphne's ragdoll cat. "Well done, you two. But remember, it's a lot different in the presence of a Dementor or Lethifold. So, you should definitely keep these skills up."

"My Patronus should be voted the most adorable in class," says Daphne, while Harry puts on a thoughtful pose.

"I dunno; Hermione's one comes pretty close as well." This, of course, earns him another fond smile from Hermione, although he doesn't leave Pansy out of the conversation. "But that raven is right up there as most awesome Patronus."

"You know it," says Pansy, strutting around with her raven perched atop her left shoulder yet again. "My girl will claw, peck, and chase away any stupid Dementor!"

Sirius continues to observe his friends teaching the students, before gesturing towards Harry. "I think you're all doing a brilliant job of casting those Patronuses. However, nobody can top my godson, right?"

"Such bias!" says Sally-Anne, still battling to form a corporeal Patronus. "Just because it's a fancy snake that Harry can put to some use, hmph."

"Oh yes indeed," says a smug Harry, "My boy sure helped out good in the Maze,  _Expecto Patronum_!"

Metres' worth of silvery serpent bursts forth from Harry's wand, before it slithers about in the air. Quite a few students soon inquire as to what type of serpent this is. Shrugging, Harry asks the snake (which makes those around him wish they could communicate with their Patronus).

"You humansss are the onesss who like to name usss. So, I dunno what to call myself," replies Harry's Patronus. "Maybe ask someone who knowsss more about snakesss?"

"Says the snake himself," sighs Harry, who then shakes his head at the crowd gathered around. He then offers 15 Galleons to whichever student can identify his Patronus. "All I can say is that he's got one hell of a fast strike. Should've seen my boy against the Dementors."

"I think I'm the fastessst snake in the world when it comesss to striking," says the Patronus. "And I know I'm venomousss, but that meansss absolutely nothing for a Patronusss."

"He reckons he's got the fastest strike around, and he's venomous. Well, there you have it," says Harry to the eager bunch of Gryffindors and Slytherins. "Help your Chosen One out, would you? I've been going for years without knowing what kind of snake my Patronus is."

"It is rather challenging to identify a snake that's all shiny and silver," says Tonks, "Not to mention that it ain't something like a cobra, because it doesn't have those wing stuff. But yeah, I think it'll be a nice little research game for your pals now."

" _Fifteen Galleons_ ," gasps Ron, "That's it, I'm so hitting the library right after class. Forget dinner! Lemme see..." He keenly eyes the slithering serpent. "Long fangs, triangular head, venomous, probably the fastest strike speed... alright. Very lengthy for a snake, though."

"Who are you, and what have you done to my Ron Weasley?" asks Lavender, while looking at the fiercely determined Ron.

"Don't let his size confuse you," says Harry, "Sometimes, a Patronus might not reflect the usual size of their creature. It's magic, after all. Also, if you look closely, I think his colour would've been in a banded pattern."

"Right, right," nods Ron, taking all this information in as he prepares to bolt straight for the library in half an hour's time. "Tail looks like it could be a different colour than the rest of his body too..."

"This is like those Muggle geographic shows, by the manner in which you folks are going on over Harry's Patronus," says Sirius. "Fair play then, but I'm gonna head over to Mad-Eye's group quickly."

Lupin now returns to his own group as well, where Sally-Anne, Eloise, and Dean nearly manage to form their incorporeal Patronuses. But eventually, as the last thirty minutes pass by, no further improvements are made. Now it's Tonks who speaks to the class:

"Time's up for today, kids. Don't forget that curfew's in three and a half hours time, at eight."

"When are we having our next class?" asks Parvati, "This is like Dumbledore's Army part two!"

Tonks withdraws a schedule from her pocket. "I think we can slot in another single session tomorrow morning and Wednesday for Slytherin."

"And, according to our timetable, we Gryffindors can take a double class with Hufflepuff on Thursday afternoon. Then, Ravenclaw appears to have a double slot free on Wednesday afternoon," says Hermione. "I wish it didn't have to be such a rush, or are you three considering staying for next year as well?"

"There's other business to attend to," says Tonks vaguely, "But we're not sure who Professor Dumbledore has got planned for next year."

As it's now time for dinner, most head for the Great Hall. This includes Harry who's soon seated at his table. "Ha! Anyone see Ronald?"

The girls look around before Pansy replies. "Nope, so he's really working his arse off for those fifteen Galleons, eh? Are you truly that curious about your Patronus, Harry?"

"It would be a nice little fact to know," he says. "Just for the heck of it."

Midway through their time at dinner, Hermione walks across the aisle to sit beside Harry. The latter once again checking for any hostile reactions down the table.

"Can I help you, Otterborn?"

"Come off it," she replies, "This better not be a joke, Harry. Are you really going to pay fifteen Galleons or was that just a prank?"

"I'm an honest person... most of the time. But I will pay whoever comes with the answer, so I guess I might as well hand it over already, huh?"

Hermione shakes her head while smiling. "I could always exchange some Pounds for Galleons when needed. No, I'll let Ron take this one."

"By the way, where's Sirius?" asks Harry, looking around but failing to spot his godfather. "Thought he might be wanting to join us for dinner?"

"Ron said he was headed for the Burrow after our class," says Hermione, though clearly wary of discussing Order of the Phoenix matters around Harry's group. "Probably just a 'visit', you know?"

"Or he's probably lending Mrs. Weasley some money just to help around," says Harry, causing Pansy to snort with a slight laugh beside him. "Don't choke there, Ravengirl. So... where should I spend tonight, hmm?"

"Come back to us," says Tracey, "If anyone's got a problem then we'll just kick their arse. Simple, really."

"Nah, I'd rather not cause a distraction this close to the exams," Harry feels a rush of pride and glee as the girls clamour for his return.

"Just you watch!" declares Pansy, "After all the crap you've been through this year, Harry, I'm sure you'll have a proper one next year. You must be Quidditch Captain, you must! I'm not putting up with goddamned Malfoy and Nott running the show for another goddamned year."

"See you lovely ladies tomorrow again," says Harry, before standing up and exiting the Great Hall. While on his way up the grand staircase, he comes across a pensive Hermione walking at a leisurely pace. Now, Harry races up the steps to pass many Gryffindors before coming up beside his favourite one. "Don't think too hard, otherwise you might not make it to the exams. Would be a shame if Miss Granger falls six floors down, silly."

"I guess Mister Potter needs to read  _Hogwarts, A History_  to see that this whole area's enchanted to prevent that. Students can't really fall off, and the landing's cushioned anyway if you do manage to fall, silly."

"You're silly, otter."

"Chosen One? More like... Silly One. Here, wear this," She swaps scarves with Harry, resulting in them wearing each other's House colours around their necks. "At least it doesn't smell of sweat this time."

"Enjoy my blessed presence in your common room for now. Because after the exams, well, there'll be no more running away from the dungeons," says Harry, as the pair speak the password to the (admittedly still suspicious) Fat Lady who permits him entry. By now, Harry's grown used to being in the Gryffindor common room, and its residents have grown used to him. He therefore hurries to the boys' side for a shower before later returning to the common room. Hermione, as expected, sits herself at a wooden table (stacked with textbooks) in a quiet corner for her revision.

"Mind if I... Slytherin?" asks Harry, eliciting a slight smile as Hermione remains fixated on her Runes book. From what Harry sees while sitting beside her, it resembles little more than a mess of symbols. He then reaches out to grab her Transfiguration textbook, but swiftly withdraws his hand as she slaps it.

"I'm studying that next, so pick something else. Unless you'd like to bring your trunk from wherever you've stashed it?"

"It's in the kitchens," says Harry with a grin, "Being taken care of by the many House Elves. They're very helpful, you know, and they sure enjoy their enslaved existence. S.P.E.W., my arse."

Even though Hermione doesn't speak to him for the rest of the night, Harry remains smiling. At just a second past midnight on his watch, he nudges the half-awake girl in her side.

"You said you weren't gonna speak to me all night? It's morning now, so, we can talk... helloooo?"

"Just a little... further to go... must finish this chapter..." says Hermione, through yawns and heavy eyelids. Then she finally shuts her thick Arithmancy textbook and uses it as a pillow on the desk. In a matter of seconds, Harry rolls his eyes before drawing his wand.

" _Mobilicorpus_ ," he whispers, now levitating the snoozing girl to the couch where she's laid out comfortably. "Who's the silly one now, eh?" Regardless of the witty remark, he slips off his robes before throwing it over Hermione as a blanket. This leaves Harry in his shirt, trousers etc., as he makes his way to the fifth-year boys' dormitory. Minutes later, he falls asleep in a spare four-poster bed made available for him.

Tuesday morning eventually arrives, and Harry finds himself last awake in the boys dormitory. A few cleaning charms later sees him heading down to the busy common room area, where Hermione's surrounded by giggling girls. "Good morning, Harry," she greets, beaming with a fond smile while holding out his robes. "Have you slept in uniform?"

"Yeah, sure did," he replies, before standing at the couch where Hermione dresses him in his robes. "Bit uncomfortable, but I've gotten used to it."

"Just don't damage anything important from sleeping like that," Hermione grins while the surrounding group giggles at her comment. "Shall we head off to breakfast?"

"Certainly," Harry reaches out to grasp her hand as Hermione stands up from the couch. As expected, the twins whistle and catcall as Harry leads the smirking girl out and down the grand staircase. Their walk proves uneventful, since even the bad Slytherins seem too preoccupied by the imminent exams in just over a month.

"Wow, he's really gone and done that research after all," says Hermione, upon seeing Ron standing with an open book in the entrance hall.

"Harry! I've found it; I know what your Patronus is!"

"Let's hear it then," Harry speeds down the marble staircase to approach Ron in the centre of the entrance hall.

"All those clues made it somewhat easy to research in the library. See? Hermione's not the only one who knows how to work it! Alright, you said your snake has the fastest strike of 'em all, and by combining that with its physical description... I've got an exact match. Check it out, doesn't that look so much like your Patronus... without the silver shine?"

Harry inspects the image of a snake which Ron points out in the library book. Indeed, it appears to be remarkably identical to Harry's Patronus, but without the shining silver of the spell. "My God, look at its name! Is this for real?"

Looking over his shoulder, Hermione nods while whispering in his ear. "Yep, sure is. This is a legitimate research book indeed. But I'm sure it's just a name and, hopefully, nothing ominous. I mean, you've had something called 'The Grim' foretold before and that was rubbish. Don't stress your lovely face, Harry."

Ron smiles rather awkwardly. "I think Hermione's right, though, in that it's just a name. At least it's a wicked one, you know? So, uh, can I have my fifteen Galleons?"

"I'll make it twenty for all this effort," Harry hands over the jingling pouch to a most gleeful Ron, who grins while entering the Great Hall. This leaves Harry to shrug and glance at Hermione.

"It's just a name," she says comfortingly, while holding his left hand. "Not everything is destiny and superstition."

"Yeah, I suppose there's nothing ominous at all about my Patronus being a  _Death Adder_... yeah, alright... Breakfast time!" Ominous thoughts aside, Harry enjoys a wholesome breakfast before rejoining his group of girls in the entrance hall. With crowds of students passing by, the group of six are soon confronted by Malfoy's group.

"What?" asks an annoyed Pansy, balling her fist as Malfoy stands with a scowl. "What are you lot staring at?"

"It's a free period now," says Nott, standing beside Malfoy. "No classes, so it's time for revision."

Tracey clutches at her wand in her pocket. "It's Defence Against the Dark Arts, you dolt! You'd have known if you actually stayed for yesterday's class!"

"Well, we're not going at all," says Zabini, "No way we're letting Dumbledore's minions teach us crap. What? Are you still doing Patronus rubbish?"

"Forget these guys," says Harry, now balling his left hand into a fist. "If they don't wanna learn then it's their loss."

"We don't need to learn how to do whatever from your three pals, Potter," says Malfoy, "My father taught me how to duel, etc."

"And now he's in jail," Harry smirks as Malfoy glares at him. "Don't blame me."

Nott snarls at Harry. "Go back to Gryffindor, Potter, since you seem pretty content with sleeping over in the tower. You're no Slytherin."

"No Slytherin? Then explain how I've been wearing this from years back, and without being reprimanded by Professor Snape?" Harry raises his right hand to show the Slytherin House ring on his fourth finger. "You've got it, Malfoy's got it, Zabini's got it, everyone who's got the cash for it has got one."

"And I've got it too!" says a beaming Pansy, raising her right hand to proudly display her House ring. "It's only a status symbol, you know? Just two hundred Galleons in price."

"I know what the Slytherin House ring is!" says Nott, "Don't take me for a fool."

Harry now lets out a lengthy sigh. "What exactly is it that you want? Are you looking for an apology from me? I'm sorry that your father's ended up in prison? What?"

"We don't ever want to see your face in our common room," says Malfoy, "Not until our fathers are free! Do you have any idea what it's like to be disgraced like we are?"

"How could I?" asks a shrugging Harry. "My parents are dead. Like your dad once said, Malfoy, they were 'meddlesome fools' who met their 'sticky end'."

"And Mr. Malfoy was absolutely right," replies Nott, "Let's go, boys; I'd prefer to study in peace without seeing Potter's three teacher pals."

"What a bunch of cocks," says Daphne, "You should buy a Slytherin House ring for each of your fingers to show them who's boss!"

"That wouldn't be very comfortable," says Harry, "I'm not that desperate, hmph!"

"Screw them; you're our number one Slytherin boy," says Sally-Anne, "Right on top you are, Mister Kingpin."

Millicent smiles before ushering the group forward. "Alright, alright; let's get to class before we're late. I mean, we are the only students that's going to be there, anyway."

Indeed, today's single session of six is taken solely by Tonks, who seems more uncaring than annoyed. "Oh well, not my problem if the Dementors get those wankers."

"Language, Professor!" says Harry from his desk in front, "That's unprofessional conduct right there, so, six points from Hufflepuff."

"Very funny," says Tonks, "Now, how about you split into pairs and we'll review your duelling skills. And yes, I absolutely just know that Harry will be showing off."

"You know me too well, Professor," Harry then yelps upon being dragged out his desk by Pansy, as Tonks clears the classroom. Meanwhile, a heavy downpour can be heard splattering against the castle outside. "I have half a mind to fall asleep in this weather."

"Oh no you don't," Pansy raises her ebony wand, "If you do, then I'll get you good, Snakeyboy."

"In your dreams, Ravengirl."

"Alright, good Slytherins, let's see what you're all made of; let them spells fly!"

The first period of the day zips by, before the group exits with smiles from Classroom 3C. Divination comes next, and Harry's already aware of his predicament. "Well, I'm failing this exam for sure."

"I don't think any of us are going to continue with this silly subject," says Pansy, before entering the classroom on the first floor and lowering her voice. "I sure as heck don't wish to be taught by a centaur anymore."

"Typical Pureblood."

"Am I still pure after getting with you, Chosen Half-Blood?"

"Oh shut up," Harry punches the laughing Pansy as they try to give their fullest attention to Firenze. But the centaur immediately observes the rift between the fifth-year Slytherins, which only annoys Malfoy and friends.

It's an odd feeling for Harry to have battled Voldemort and the Death Eaters before simply returning to finish this year. But as the days go by (and the O.W.L. exams grow nearer), he's forced to revise as much as possible. From Charming teacups with his friends (where he has his cup charge Hermione's off the table) to spending many an evening in the Potions classroom, to revising Herbology, Harry's as busy as can be. But the group's efforts are not without reward as more students finally achieve their corporeal Patronus.

For Tracey, it's a jaguar that puts a wide grin on her face while Sally-Anne gasps at her own grizzly bear. By the end of their third Patronus session, Lavender lets out a Labrador retriever which runs in zigzag patterns as it plays with Ron's Jack Russell terrier. As for those without a corporeal Patronus, they decide upon postponing their practice until after the exams.

As April fades to a warm May, the patrolling Aurors increase in number. From an initial three (Dawlish, Proudfoot and Savage), they are soon joined by assistants in the form of Sirius Black and Fleur Delacour. The part-Veela's presence around Hogsmeade, and the school's front gates, attracts crowds of admirers which hardly annoys Harry. In addition to Fleur, many students now fervently discuss the latest news which includes Gryffindor's Firebolt range.

"Are you sure you're not jealous?" asks Hermione, on the final Friday evening before the Quidditch rematch. "All those boys ogling your Delacour when she comes up the pathway outside..."

"She's sexy in that trench coat, yeah! But I'm not worried, because Fleur wouldn't go see someone behind my back. We're all honest, yep." Harry nods after finishing his last practice session before the game. "Tomorrow, I'm gonna make history."

"You're going to make lots of enemies too," says Hermione. "Loaning Gryffindor some Firebolts... You are admirably crazy, Harry James Potter."

"Thank you," Harry adjusts his tie as the pair walk up the sunny slopes, "But with Sirius now around, I ain't scared of anyone."

Hermione can't help but smile at this. "He's certainly much happier when out and about as opposed to being stuck at home all day long, hmm? I just hope he's not endangering himself by being on guard duty."

"Don't underestimate Sirius, even if he has been locked up for over a decade. Or did you forget about his skills at the Ministry? My godfather's no sorry pushover."

Friday night leaves Harry little choice but to seek residence once again at Gryffindor Tower. This is only further emphasised by the sheer glares of hostility sent his way by those against him. Nott hardly lets up with his insults at Harry's imminent 'betrayal' as various students head towards their common rooms. "You're in for it tomorrow, Firebolt Potter..."

Crabbe and Goyle grunt in agreement while many Slytherins descend the staircase from the entrance hall to the dungeons. Montague and Vaisey also issue vague threats of having to 'teach Potter a lesson' throughout their descent.

Tracey and many other pro-Harry Slytherins can be heard arguing with their Housemates. "This wouldn't have happened if you people had just owned up and admitted that you're wrong! Now you're up against both skill and wealth."

"IF YOU HAD JUST REINSTATED THE OLD TEAM, INCLUDING HARRY, THEN WE'D SURELY BEAT GRYFFINDOR FAIR AND SQUARE," says an exasperated Yasmin, who Harry hears all the way from the entrance hall.

"WHO SAID WE'RE GOING TO LOSE?" shouts Montague. "YOU PESSIMISTIC IDIOT; POTTER'S NOTHING! DON'T YOU DARE MOCK MY TEAM, BECAUSE OUR FIREBOLTS ARE WAY BETTER THAN POTTER'S LOANED CRAP!"

But, before Harry can move towards the marble staircase, he sees billowing black robes stride past him towards the dungeon entrance. "What a bunch of immature children!" says a sighing Snape, causing Harry to grin from behind the Potions master.

"That's exactly what we all are, sir."

"The sooner this game is over, the better," replies Snape, without even looking at Harry as the former descends the spiralling staircase.

For the latter, his night at Gryffindor Tower couldn't be any better with songs of praise being led by the twins.  _"He's no dolt, for he's given us a Firebolt. Not one, not two, but six... brand new broomsticks!"_

"Guys," laughs Harry, as he stands in the centre of the noisy crowd. "They're just loaned out temporarily..."

_"A loan_?" sings Fred, leading the crowd once more.

" _Alone_?" adds George. " _We're not alone_!  _We're gonna kick Theodore Nott and his rot; we're gonna show him what's what_!"

Ginny leads the next bit of song. " _We've got the Chosen One, and now we're all so strong... even Ron_!"

"Bloody wha—?"

"Shhh, Ron, let it slide," says a giggling Hermione from her seat at the table, before Harry soon shakes his head at the overwhelming praise. "Aw, look at him blush. Where's Mister Arrogant now, I wonder?"

Her answer comes in the form of a witty remark which Harry sends to Ginny at the conclusion of the singing. "Watch and learn tomorrow, young player. Think you can fly with the Boy-Who-Lived-for-Quidditch?"

"I might just surprise you," says Ginny, turning on her heals and heading upstairs for an early night's sleep. Once the common room gradually clears, Fred and George pull Harry aside for some hushed chat.

"Listen, we really really really need to win this match, alright? And I'm not just talking about getting the Cup," says Fred.

"Sure, that's of the utmost importance," adds George, "But we've already missed out on one good opportunity to really show our products' worth, last month. See, Umbridge's rather early exit means we're sitting on a stockpile of unused fireworks and portable swamps that need to be showcased..."

Harry grins while shaking his finger at the twins. "Ah, I see; you're looking to celebrate with more than a few bangs and flood that pitch. Very risky business, don't you think? What if we ended up forfeiting the Cup out of sheer disrespect for the rules?"

"With Professor Dumbledore back in charge?  _Never_!" says a laughing Fred. "This is a one-time big thing only, man, and even Dumbledore would have a laugh. Don't we all know the Headmaster by now?"

"Alright, I'm in," says Harry, "Heaven knows we need something to laugh about these days, damn. Five Galleons says Professor McGonagall will give us all detention and make us clean that mess."

"Deal!" says George, shaking hands for Harry's bet. "Might as well practice all your Transfiguration and Charms skills then, because our stuff ain't at all easy to remove. Even Umbridge couldn't do a darn thing against them earlier."

"Now go have some fun with your Granger," says Fred, "She's looking a bit lonely in that corner..."

The twins head for their dormitory while fervently planning out tomorrow's victory celebration. This leaves Harry to walk across the partially-filled common room to approach the studious Hermione. "Hey, I've got a fun little game we can play to practice Charms."

"Sure, let's hear what the Quidditch star has in store for us."

Harry explains his speculations regarding which Charms might appear in their exams. After confirming with a sceptical Hermione, both students soon take up position in the centre of the common room.

"What in the world? That looks like fun!" Parvati and a few other girls watch as Harry engages Hermione in a duel. But instead of casting spells directly at each other, they Transfigure a pair of old books into sticks. These are then enlarged with  _Engorgio_  before having their colours changed (red for Hermione, green for Harry) with another Charm. Finally, both students make use of the Levitation Charm for an evening of stick sword-fighting, which is conducted with their wands.

"You can't out-sword me, because I took out a Basilisk!" Harry swipes his wand left, to have his stick strike at Hermione's.

"Your stick skills are questionable; does that imply something else?" asks a laughing Hermione, who manages to perform a flurry of swipes and stabs with her stick.

"Stop poking me! Here, you feel how it is." Now it's Harry who goes on the offensive as he manages to swipe away Hermione's stick. As she bends over from being repeatedly poked in the abdomen, Harry knows exactly what to do next...

_WHIP!_

"Oh no he didn't!" gasps Lavender, after seeing Hermione spanked over her backside. Thankfully, she's wearing a comfortably thick pair of jeans.

"Harry James Potter..."

"That's my name, so don't wear it out, Mugglebun." Harry leaps over the couch as Hermione splits her stick in two. "Oh crap, twice the whippings coming up!"

" _Engorgio_!"

Hermione's spell enlarges her sticks to match Harry's one, which levitates near him as their duel continues. He puts up a good fight, but eventually ends up bent over a table while getting spanked by Hermione.

"That's what you get," says Fay Dunbar, as a dozen girls of different years watch on in amusement. "Take off his trousers and whip his bare arse!"

"Shall I?" asks Hermione to a grinning Harry. "Uh, on second thought... You girls don't know him the way I do."

"Come on then, I'm waiting..."

"Shoo! Go sleep already," Hermione pulls Harry to his feet before sending him off to the dormitory with a kiss on his cheek. Although this room lacks the warm feel of the cold, stone dormitories, Harry still manages another good night's rest. Even better is the absence of any strange dreams, since Voldemort had closed off his mind following the Ministry battle.

Saturday morning arrives, and Harry bolts up from his bed with a satisfied stretch. To his surprise, the twins, Lee Jordan, Ron, and quite a few others come in singing exactly what Harry's dreaded he'd hear. Soon, he exits the dormitories wondering how he'll face his own Head of House, seeing as everyone's now likening Harry to his father. "I knew this was bad idea," whispers Harry to Hermione near the couch. "I love my dad, but don't want to sour the decency that's taken so long to build with Professor Snape."

"And I'm sure your father wouldn't want you to have a terrible time because of old grudges," says Hermione, loud enough for Ginny (who's sitting on the couch) to hear. "Ahem..."

"Oh, right," Ginny stands up before turning around to face the cheering and singing group. "SHUT IT!"

"What?" asks Lee, "We're letting our Chosen Quidditch One hear the praises.  _He's a Seeker; as bold, fearless and kick arse as his Chaser father! James, oh son of James, you bought us Firebolts... to take down those stupid snake dolts_! Uh, no offense, Harry James."

"Hit me with a Killing Curse, Hermione, I'm ready to die," says a sighing Harry. "This is basically the end of my tolerable relationship with Professor Snape."

The singing carries on, with and Harry his father being used for Quidditch motivation.

"I think you're overreacting," says Hermione, standing with her arms folded as Harry groans again. "Surely Professor Snape would be mature enough to not hold one little song against you?"

"Quickly!" Harry grabs Hermione's hands as the singing intensifies throughout the crowded common room. "You can dump my body in the Forbidden Forest or parade my corpse for all to see... whatever! I'm not taking unnecessary rubbish from Snape after all these damn years."

"WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTHS?" shouts Ginny, startling the common room into silence. "He's not his father, damnit. Look, you're agitating him now!" She points to the wide-eyed Harry standing beside Hermione. "How would any of you like it if I sang about your murdered parents, huh?"

"But we're singing the good stuff," says Lee, "This ain't got anything to do with murder—"

"What do you suppose Harry thinks of each time he hears about his parents? Just drop this singing rubbish or sing about something else for a change, understand?" Ginny glares at Lee, who looks to the twins as the group rethinks their songs.

Angelina exits the girls' tower before looking over the balcony at the common room below. "I could hear you lot singing all the way from my room. Yeah, I'm with Ginny on this one. Drop that James stuff immediately, or risk one of our players not playing at his peak."

Grumbling and murmuring, many Gryffindors take to thinking up generic chants to motivate their team. Meanwhile, Harry turns to smile at Ginny. "Thanks; you're a real darling lifesaver right now, you kn—"

"Oh no," Ginny tilts her head up and smiles. "Don't try that golden tongue on me, Harry Potter. You've already got your line of girlfriends, and I'd prefer a line of just one." She then lowers her voice so that only Harry can hear. "You'd understand if you were the youngest of so many. I'd rather be the one and only love of someone's life."

"Fine then," says a smug Harry, while folding his arms. "Love talk aside; we have a game to win today. So, let's go own that pitch."

He then exits the common room with dozens of Gryffindors following his lead to the Great Hall. As expected, the Slytherin table is once again split with over half being understanding of their main Seeker's decision today. The remaining minority, however, boo and mutter insults towards the unfazed Harry. Their hostilities and siding with Nott only further pushes Harry to wolf down his breakfast in silence. Little does he care for the rush of handshakes and eager expressions coming from the surrounding Gryffindors. Even those at the staff table watch the scene with curious expressions, while Harry sees Snape eyeing him much like after the Sorting Ceremony of first year. Regardless of all this, there's a game that needs to be won. Harry, therefore, spends no longer than half an hour at the table before standing up and making his way out the double doors.  

 


	29. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

With just over an hour to go until the Quidditch final, Harry opts to walk alone down the grassy slopes. Or, at least, that was the idea before he now spots a familiar glow in the corner of his eye. A warm feeling spreads from the centre of his chest as Harry admires a gleam of silvery blonde headed his way. Once he finally smiles, so does Fleur as they meet near the base of the slope.

"I can feel that Charm," says Harry, reaching into Fleur's coat pocket to withdraw a silky silver scrunchie. "Trying to take me by surprise won't work anymore. I'm a fairly good Occlumens these days."

Fleur turns around as Harry ties her hair into one long ponytail, before she faces him again. "Yes, yes, act tough, leetle 'Arry."

"I  _am_  tough," says Harry, tilting his head up much like Pansy often does. "For I am the Chosen One."

"I do not care; you are still zat scared fourth year to me," Fleur grips his chin and tilts Harry's head back down. "If you are so beeg and brave, zen why do you seem so nervous now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Eet is not normal for you to be so quiet before a Quidditch match. Are you really 'Arry? 'Oo are you, and where 'ave you taken my 'Arry to?"

"Wha—Hey!" Harry yelps as Fleur grabs him into a headlock, before she leads him across the grass towards the stadium. "Who's the one acting like a leetle silly person now, huh?" Instead of trying to break free of the hold, Harry now opts to wrap his arms around Fleur.

"Much better, young man," she releases her hold before wrapping her left arm around Harry. "And 'ere I zought you 'ad forgotten 'ow to show affection towards me. Am I getting too old for you, leetle boy?"

As they enter the Gryffindor tunnel, Harry shakes his head. "Of course not! You look exactly the same as last year."

"Well, silly, eet 'as only been a year."

"You're the one who asked the question, silly."

"You are ze one 'oo actually answered, silly."

They look at each other, both grinning widely, before going for another long, warm hug in this chilly morning breeze. With everyone else still in the castle, nothing but a peaceful wind can be heard sweeping through the tunnel. A few twigs and leaves occasionally brush past the hugging pair, but barely disturbs their embrace.

"You know," says Harry, speaking rather muffled from being pressed against Fleur's trench coat. "As secure as Gringotts may be, I've still worried about you throughout the year. Sometimes, I pictured undercover Death Eaters or bad people getting in and kidnapping you from the bank."

"You 'ave an overactive imagination, 'Arry, for zat could nevair ever 'ave 'appened. I would, as you like to say, 'keeck zeir arses'," Fleur draws her wand and heats the surrounding floor as they sit against the tunnel wall. "But, jokes aside, I would be lying if I said nobody is worried about you, 'Arry. Ze Ministry was a fortunate opportunity for you, according to what Sirius 'as told me. But 'ow long is your luck going to last?"

"Like I said: I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," says Harry, smiling as Fleur leans against him.

"Well, 'opefully you know zat I did not take zis opportunity of being around just for jokes and silliness. Meester Dumbledore—yes, I can say 'is name now—told me a leetle of what is going on around 'ere. So, I know where your other 'ome is and 'ow to get zair. Plus, I am an Order member now, yes. Conseeder yourself mine to protect, sad man."

"But I'm not sad," says Harry, "Why would I be sad?"

"I know you well enough to know what is going on inside zat pretty 'ead of yours. So tell me, are you fully prepared for today's game? You will be breaking ze Slytherin win streak yourself, remember?"

Harry nods while being steadfast in his decision. "My Housemates have gone too far this time, and I won't allow them to influence the rest. This is for the greater good."

"It will only be good if you win, so you must win, okay? Zere is a lot of people cheering for you, and zat includes me," says a smiling Fleur, who interlocks her fingers with Harry's as they hold hands. "'Ow is your exam studies coming along, Meester Future Auror?"

"I'm just focusing on what I need to excel at, so everything else will probably be a fail or a barely scraped O.W.L. But enough about me; how are things going for you? Any regrets on leaving Gringotts?"

Fleur shakes her head, letting her waist-length ponytail swish about. "Absolutely not, because zose 'ideous goblins are truly annoying to work with! Eet is not my fault zat zeir kind 'ad overall lost ze stupid goblin rebellions of years and years ago. So why carry old grudges all ze way till today?"

A smile forms on Harry's face as he admires the adorable expression of anger by Fleur. "They're still butthurt over never being allowed to use wands and be seen on equal terms with us wizards."

"And witches, 'Arry, do not forget ze witches."

"'Wizard' can be used as a general, unisexual term in certain cases."

"Clever boy," Fleur grins while ruffling Harry's hair as the pair remain seated outside the locker room. "Before I 'ad returned 'ere, I almost forgot 'ow nice you look in uniform, 'Arry. Eet 'as certainly been far too long, shame."

"Look who's talking," says a softly laughing Harry, "I'm the one who's nearly forgotten how amazing you once looked in uniform. The silky one, mostly, although the blazer is also nice."

Fleur leans to whisper in a gasping Harry's ear. "Do you only love me because I am good-looking?"

"Of course not! Even if you weren't blessed with being part-Veela, and even if you weren't pretty, I'd still admire a girl like you."

Fleur smiles once again, but this time it's wider and with her cheeks raised even higher. "I still 'ave it, you know; my school robes. Remember zose times when we were alone in ze empty classrooms? It was fun to wear my uniform just like zat for awhile."

"Without underwear..." sighs Harry, leaning back while smiling. "All that silk over your bare skin... weren't we naughty, eh?"

"Like I said, it 'as only been a year," Fleur stretches out while still beaming with a smile. "One for ze game..."

"The wha—" Harry immediately shuts his eyes upon being pulled into a lengthy kiss by Fleur. "My God, how I've missed that!"

"I am sure ze 'Ermione girl also gives you good affection, right?"

Harry resists the urge to imply that Fleur's better, and instead keeps it level. "Yes, she's been my guardian angel all year long. Not upset, are you?"

After shrugging her shoulders, Fleur tilts her head while looking nonchalantly at Harry. "Why would I be upset at a clever girl 'oo is of good benefit to you? Zat would be just silly of me. According to Sirius, you would be suffering a lot more 'ad 'Ermione not been caring for you. I do not know 'ow I would 'andle spending so much time stuck in one room."

"I wouldn't mind being stuck in one room with you, though," says Harry, eliciting a snorting laugh from Fleur.

"Always with zat quick mouth," she kisses him yet again, both lightly caressing the other's tongue with their own. While Fleur lightly brushes past, Harry tries to draw an 'S' with his before the kiss comes to an end.

"What? Why are you laughing at me?" he asks, upon seeing Fleur giving a (often adorable) laugh.

"You kiss nice, 'Arry. But, even after all zis time, you are still just a beginner in doing it properly."

"Oh really? I'll have you know that neither Pansy nor Hermione seem to have a problem with my smooching skills," Harry folds his arms and turns to look away from Fleur. He then resists each of the girl's attempts to have him face her again. "Insult my snogging, huh? Well, I never!"

Caught between fits of giggles, Fleur grabs Harry by the shoulders as she tries to turn him. "Did I just 'urt ze"—She lets slip another laugh, which ends in a snort—"mighty Chosen One's ego?"

"How dare you insult my kissing skills," Harry remains indignant while looking away from Fleur.

"Monsieur Chosen One, do look at me."

"No."

"But can you reesist a girl descended from a Veela?" She observes Harry's insistence on looking away. "My papi, or grandfather, also acts so stubborn at times. But, even after all zese years, 'e still ends up melting like butter for my grandmuzzer. 'E cannot look away and stay upset long, you see."

"Really? That sure sounds interesting," says Harry, softening his frown while turning to look at Fleur.

"No, I just lied. But it did make you look at me," Fleur grins most mischievously at the expression of disbelief on Harry's face. "Silly boy, my papi never gets upset with my grandmuzzer, and why would 'e? Zey are so very much a lovely couple indeed."

"I hope you find someone as good as your grandfather, then," says Harry, putting on a grin that is outmatched by Fleur's smile.

"You know I 'ave, for I am looking at 'im." She stands up then extends her hand. "Do not be shy, zis is not something for only ze men to do." This is followed by getting Harry back onto his feet.

"Heh, thanks."

"A pleasure, Monsieur."

Silence fills the tunnel once again as the pair simply stand and smile each other. Their expressions somewhat identical; with Harry and Fleur's cheeks raised, and their eyes fairly narrowed.

"Not fair, stop making me smile all the time."

"I would say ze same zing to you, Meester." Before Harry can respond, Fleur reaches forward to stroke the sides of his messy hair. Then she twirls some around her finger prior to tucking them behind his ears. "'Ow could zey ever throw such a sweet, sweet darling into Azkaban prison? What kind of sick, 'eartless people could ever do such a zing?"

"The kind I've sued, and who've been made to leave the school in disgrace," says Harry, feeling a warmth in his chest as his brazen demeanour falters for a fleeting moment.

"If you evair need any more 'elp with your exam preparation, then I can arrange something when I am off-duty. And no, I do not believe zat you are not worried, 'Arry. Zere is no shame in being anxious; for even ze 'Orntail-beater and Dark Lord fighter needs a bit of 'elp. My rough diamond still needs to be smoothed out. But zere is so much talent and skill in 'im zat it would take many years still."

"Rough diamond, huh?" Harry can't help but have his cheeks redden. "Thank you."

Now, a sudden crunch causes Harry to spin around and spot a familiar silhouette at the tunnel's exit. "Oh don't mind me; I'm just tuning into a nice romantic film over here. Do carry on," says Sirius, leaning against the wall with a bag of potato crisps in hand.

"'Ow long 'ave you been standing zere?" asks a startled, if not slightly offended, Fleur.

"Long enough to see him"—A grinning Sirius gestures towards Harry—"flirting with chicks before a match for Gryffindor. Now  _that's_  what I call a heck of a familiar sight. This is like a flashback Saturday, I'd say. Just pretend that I'm not here..."

"So rude to intrude on our moment," says Fleur, slightly narrowing her eyes at an amused Sirius. "Are the uzzers coming zis way now?"

"Yep, just a few minutes until it's showtime. We'll alternate with Tonks, Dawlish, Savage, and Proudfoot in patrolling in and around the stadium. At least two of us needs to watch the visitors' stands at all times." Sirius walks towards Harry, and now places a hand on the latter's shoulder "Everything still alright? Last I heard, things were getting rather nasty with your bad bunch of Housemates."

"Don't worry about them, because today's going to be a fine day of shutting up the haters," Harry gasps, and laughs, as Fleur so suddenly grabs him into a hug from behind.

"Yes you will! Go seize ze day and make zings right again. Come, come, no time to waste out 'ere."

While Sirius stands in the locker room doorway, Fleur swiftly inspects Harry's attire. All seems well as he's mostly dressed for the game, except for needing a set of Quidditch robes to slip on. "Red? Well, I'm not truly a Gryffindor, though. Green? That'll be too confusing up there."

"Just do it like zis," Fleur performs an expert Colour-Changing Charm that turns Harry's Slytherin robes to a single shade of black. "Zere, problem solved. Now you are like ze Oliver man from last year wearing all black for your opposite team."

"Give him a hood and red-eyes, then we have our very own Lord Voldemort."

"Oh so very funny, Sirius," says Harry, checking himself out in the mirror as Fleur neatens his robes. "Why neaten the robes when it'll just blow around up in the air?"

"Shoosh, 'Arry," Fleur smiles while standing beside him with her arm wrapped around his shoulders. "'Oo is zat 'andsome leetle man in ze mirror, I wonder?"

"The Chosen One."

"Now, put on your armguards while we wait for ze uzzers to come. Do not dawdle, young Seeker, and make sure ze protective guards are properly fitted. Snug as a bug, as people might say."

"Listen to your sugar mummy, Harry," says Sirius, walking about and looking around the locker room area.

"What did 'e call me?" asks Fleur, with one brow lowered and the other raised in confusion. "I do not carry sugar on me, because we are not 'aving tea right now."

"Uh, well..." Harry stands a slight bit on his tiptoes to whisper in Fleur's ear. "...yeah, that's what it means."

"What? It was only a joke," says Sirius, as Fleur narrows her eyes at him.

"Say whatever you want, but my love for your godson is no joke, Meester Black. When are  _you_  actually going to find someone special?"

"Oooooh," Harry cups his hand over his mouth. "That's a low blow right there, Fleur."

"Good things come to those who wait," replies Sirius, sighing as he seems to be considering something. "Might be a long wait, though, especially in these times..."

Footsteps can be heard coming through the tunnel as the rest of Team Gryffindor approach their locker room. Meanwhile, crowds of students and adults gradually flock to the stadium stands outside.

"Hey, if it isn't our two wannabe Aurors," says Ginny, upon seeing Sirius and Fleur in the locker room. The latter hugs Harry from behind while simply observing Ginny's reaction. "It's quite crowded in here, isn't it?"

"I will see you later, 'Arry. After you 'ave won ze game and lifted ze Cup, okay?" Fleur gives Harry a wink before walking past Ginny to exit the room.

"I don't think anything more needs to be said," says Sirius to Harry, "You've probably heard a fair bit about your father while preparing for this game. So, go put your bullies in their place." He takes his leave as the rest of the team finally settles down in the room.

"We couldn't keep her away no matter how much we've tried," says Fred, now gesturing towards a smiling girl standing in the doorway. "She's probably gonna throw Team Slytherin with library books or something."

To Harry's utmost delight, he sees none other than Hermione entering the room. "Surprise! I've been sneaking in more flying practice ever since late March. Say hello to your new Seeker for today."

"So, I suppose that leaves Harry, Angelina, and Ginny to take up Chaser positions," says Alicia Spinnet. "But I'm not missing the victory celebration, though!" She then wishes the team well before heading for the stands.

"You are ready for the insults you're about to get, right?" asks Angelina, to which Hermione scoffs.

" _Mudblood_  and proud of it! They can say whatever they like, but I just don't care. Besides, I'm sure people aren't that stupid as to yell such derogatory remarks this close to exams." She then beams at Harry, clearly proud to join him in the air for this match.

"If anyone messes with you..."

"Yes, defend your girlfriend, Harry," says Angelina, "but don't let them use Hermione against you. Fred, George, have you two got the goods ready?"

The twins nod in agreement, before Fred gestures towards the bathrooms. "Portable swamps, fireworks... you name it! Just make sure we actually win, alright?"

"With the Chosen One on our side, there's no losing today," says Hermione, whose sudden excitable manner raises Harry's brows.

"Are you really Hermione Granger, or do we have ourselves a Polyjuice imposter?" he asks, before Ron shrugs.

"Only one quick way to find out, mate..."

Minutes later, Hermione stands laughing at the group of Harry, the twins, Ron, Angelina, and Ginny gathered around the Marauder's Map. What truly has her laughing are Harry's glances from the Map to Hermione and back.

"I thought she'd given up on trying to practice, and focused all her energy in the library for the exams," says Ginny.

"That was just a bluff because I really wanted to surprise Harry. Suffice to say, it was totally worth it," says Hermione, as Harry remains quite flabbergasted.

"I just... wow... I really wasn't expecting this—"

"That's why it's called a surprise, duh," Hermione wraps her arm around Harry's shoulders. "Team talk, people, let's hear it. Our final briefing before the final final that has Gryffindor finally winning the Quidditch Cup after so many years."

The rest of the team take their seats as Angelina reviews her tactics for today's match. Once Hermione settles down on the bench beside Harry, the latter smiles at her. "My adorable cheerleader has grown into an adorable Seeker for today, nice."

"Shhh, pay attention to our Captain's speech!" says Hermione, as Angelina finishes her tactical discussion at the blackboard.

"...so, this is our chance to make good on Oliver's dream. Fred and George, this is our opportunity to leave our mark on House Gryffindor! There's a lot at stake here, people, which doesn't even need to be said. Ginny and Harry, whatever you two plan for next year's matches, don't forget about what really matters. It's about winning, yes; it's about owning up in the sky, yes... But it's also about respecting your opponents. Enough talk, let's bring home that Cup and show those corrupt bastards who's the best!"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" says Hermione, to which Harry and the others snort with laughter. "Yes, yes, laugh at me if you will."

"I'm not laughing," says Harry, now looking Hermione up and down. "It's just that I've almost forgotten how huggable you look in gear."

"Leave the hugging for when we win," says Angelina. "Everyone ready? Ron, you're quite quiet; is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just trying to predict what dirty rubbish Malfoy and the rest will be throwing at Hermione."

"Oh, stuff him! Malfoy can kiss my arse, because I'm gonna prove that Blood Status doesn't matter at all in the air," says Hermione. " _Muggleborn in the air, so come at me if you dare_!" She adds, in a sing-song voice that has everyone (especially Ginny) roaring with laughter.

_No wonder your Patronus is a playful otter_ , thinks Harry, smiling fondly at the hyped up girl beside him. "And I'll knock down any bitch that hurts the Mugglebun on her search for the Snitch."

"Strike first and fast like a real Death Adder, Harry," replies Hermione, standing up and yanking him to his feet. "Come on, come on, let's get our arses out there and WIN!"

"Bloody hell! What did you eat that I've missed this morning?" asks Ron.

"You hardly ate anything, though," says Ginny to Ron. "Don't go feinting on us up there today."

"We're going to mount our Firebolts and show those discriminative cockroaches what's what!"

"Hermione..." says Harry, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're like a hamster on a wheel, do relax."

"You'd better calm Granger down before she burns herself out, or makes a mistake," says George, to which Angelina certainly agrees.

"Relax? Who needs to relax? I've got this all planned out! Just gotta skirt the boundaries while searching for the Snitch, pull up a bit to search the skies. It won't be too difficult if I just show them who—mmmmf!" Hermione's eyes widen as Harry pulls her into a slow, soothing kiss.

"That a boy, Harry, snog that bookworm, yeah! Woooo!" cheers Fred, then George and Angelina followed by Ron.

"Don't forget that she's a year older than you," says Angelina, "Her hormones are even more whack now. Oh gosh, see what I mean!?"

Hermione grabs Harry's backside before ramming him against a locker as they continue their embrace. Then, once they've finally pulled away, she beams with a smile upon seeing his expression. "So the Chosen One could indeed keep up with that kiss? Surprise surprise..."

"Probably did a better job than Viktor Krum; am I right?"

"Oh shoosh, Ron!" Hermione pulls Harry to a nearby mirror. "Neutral-coloured robes...check. Protective guards...check. Sticking Charm and some shielding of glasses... _Let's see... Specialis Revelio_! Check. I'd say we're ready to go."

"Let's get out there and kick some bad Slytherin butt! No offense, Harry," says Angelina, as the players grab their Firebolts before lining up in the tunnel. From the sound of things outside, the crowd is probably at its largest in many years.

"What the—" Harry can scarcely believe the amount of noise which resonates from the stands. "Did I miss something?"

Standing with his gold-striped broom in-hand, Fred laughs. "If you weren't so caught up with your girlfriends, then you'd know that there's a huge...  _huge_  crowd out there today. They've had to extend the visitors' stands for this game. Why? Because people wish to see the Chosen One in action, yeah. They can also see Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in action afterwards as well."

"Sirius and Phle—ahem,  _Fleur_ , are checking the crowd," says Ginny, "Then there's Tonks and the other three also on full alert. More spectators means a bigger risk; you should've seen Filch running around with his Dark detector stuff this morning."

"No incidents, though," says Ron, "Hopefully we can just have a bloody normal day against Malfoy's lot."

George, standing with his red-coloured broom in hand, turns around and smiles. "No lies, but I've seen more than a few parents coming to watch this game. Seriously, you're so in the spotlight today, Harry, just when you're going up against your own House, hahaha!"

Angelina speaks from the front of the line. "Not only that, but I've spotted a few professional teams coming up the slopes. Now's the chance for us to show them what we can do, and in an all-Firebolt showdown, no less. Thanks for bringing in the huge crowd, Harry."

Lee Jordan can now be heard speaking over the magical megaphone outside, even as the supposedly huge crowd remains buzzing with anticipation. "Hello and welcome to another spectacular game of Quidditch! For those of you who may not know, I'm Lee Jordan, and this will be—really, this time—my final commentary for our school league. Today we have Team Gryffindor going up against Team Slytherin and WHAT AN ABSOLUTELY CRAZY season it's been!" He proceeds to give a brief overview of the first and second clashes between these teams over this year. "So, putting aside blatant fouls, injuries, and certain bureaucratic nightmares, we'll have our teams going at it once again for the coveted Quidditch Cup."

While Lee provides an overview of the league point tally, Hermione whispers from behind Harry. "I don't think anyone's expecting  _me_  to be here. Perhaps their reactions now would be even stranger than after your first Quidditch match, remember?"

"How could I ever forget?" Harry recalls the odd (but lovable) scene of Hermione applauding him after he'd won his first match against Gryffindor. Her ecstatic response had bemused many students back then, causing a fair bit of backlash. "Ah, those were the days when you were super cute and quoted answers verbatim. Not that anything's really changed..." He grins as Hermione pokes him in the side. "I still remember all the looks you got from wearing my scarf after that match."

Judging by the tender smile on her face, Hermione thinks back to the days of wearing a green and silver scarf throughout November. She now looks at Harry before caressing and planting a firm kiss on his left cheek.

"Oi, focus and save that until after the game, alright?" asks Ron.

"Don't get distracted, Harry, because I'll be putting this Firebolt through its paces," says Ginny. "I think mum and dad came along with probably the whole family today, so let's give 'em all a show to remember."

"You sure you can properly handle that broom in a competitive environment?" asks Harry, eliciting a firm nod from Hermione beside him.

"It's less intimidating after I've read through all the safety features. That, and it's not like I haven't spent more than a few hours practicing. Now we're in this fight together, Mister King of Slytherin."

"... so without further ado, let's welcome Team Slytherin!" says Lee, before a surprisingly loud applause can be heard outside. "Here's your line up for today, Slytherin Keeper is taken by Blaise Zabini, while Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle occupy the Beater positions. Chasers comprise Michael Vaisey, Graham Montague, and Captain Theodore Nott. Last, but not least, we have the Seeker position taken by Draco Malfoy! As some of you may know, every player in today's match will be on level broom terms. They've all got...yep... FIREBOLTS, although Gryffindor's are on loan by their guest player. And don't forget... Gryffindor comes in at 490 while Slytherin sits on 460. Man, but don't those Slytherins look absolutely serious down there? Where's the entrance, lads? No fancy show for our massive crowd?"

Still standing in the tunnel, Harry gives a dry laugh before speaking to his fellow teammates. "Guess we can confirm that they're dead serious here. Do be careful, Hermione."

"I'm more worried about you, Harry, given everything that's happening these days," she turns to look at him in a concerned, but fond, manner. Her smile now sends a soothing shiver down Harry's spine. "You're going to be great out there. Actually, we'll all be."

"Now then, let us welcome our boys and girls in red and gold as TEAM GRYFFINDOR steps out of their tunnel. Sing it, say it, live it, love it, here comes the brave Lions who've already endured two matches against Nott's side this year! Gryffindor's Keeper is taken up by Ron Weasley whose twin brothers, Fred and George, occupy the Beater positions. Then we have the skilful Ginny Weasley playing her part in Chaser alongside Captain Angelina Johnson and... wait for it... the one, the only, THE CHOSEN ONE HIMSELF: HARRY POTTER! Oh yeah, lads and ladies, he's on our side today. Harry Potter, the best Slytherin around, the King of Slytherin, is coming out to show his disapproval of this year—"

Loud boos erupt from the anti-Potter minority, while the rest of the school shuts them out with cheers and tremendous, hair-raising applause.

"Boo all you want, haters, I'm only speaking the truth," Lee then explains the difference between 'minor cheating', which Harry and Flint's usually done, compared to the blatant disregard shown by Nott's side. "But who am I missing here... oh boy! She probably knows all the calculations and broom theory at play today; there's no doubt she'll be putting that uncannily sharp mind to good use out here. Future Head Girl, oh yes indeed..."

"How much have you guys paid Jordan to say all that?" asks a sighing, and yet smiling, Hermione.

"Nothing," says Harry, "it's just the truth. You're wonderfully brilliant, so accept the compliments."

"...you know who's our Seeker for today?" asks Lee over the megaphone, to the baffled crowd. "Stash your books and weep over your marks as the brightest witch of her age, HERMIONE GRANGER, stands with our team. WOOO, YEAH! STEP OUT HERE, LIONS."

One by one, the members of Team Gryffindor walk out onto the grassy pitch, where a fuming bunch of Slytherins stand. Hermione's unexpected inclusion in today's match draws disgusted expressions from Nott, Malfoy, and the rest of the team.

"THERE IS HE IS! WEARING ROBES OF BLACK, WE HAVE HARRY POTTER WALKING BESIDE HIS BRILLIANT GIRL. THE CHOSEN ONE WILL NO DOUBT BE A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH TODAY. Take a look, folks, and see the boy who's indeed held off He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the Ministry last month."

From his view down on the pitch, Harry looks around at the packed stadium where countless faces eagerly look down upon him. Banners of Gryffindor and Slytherin colours adorn the stadium, in addition to those brought along by many a guest. The wave of cheers, whistles, applause, and exhilarating noise makes Harry think back to the 1994 World Cup final.

"Do it, Harry," urges Lee Jordan, "Put that Patronus on display; Dementors don't stand a chance against—WOOOOOO, YEEEEAH BOY! LOOK AT THAT, FOLKS, LOOK AT THAT."

Seconds later sees Harry on his broom above the centre of the pitch. The silver Death Adder swirling around him as the crowd goes a mix of applause and surprise (for those who haven't frequented Hogwarts' games.)

"The real deal Slytherin Snake coming out to take charge," says Lee, "That's right, Granger, show your support like everyone else."

Harry smiles at Hermione (as well as the rest of the team) wholeheartedly cheering him on. This is in stark contrast to the hostilities shown by Theodore Nott nearby. Then, to Harry's dismay, a sinister chant of  _MUDBLOOD GRANGER_  steadily builds up from the minority of Slytherin. After dispelling his Patronus, Harry speeds off to face the jeering bunch, who are soon confronted by the rest of their House.

"THERE IS HOPE FOR SLYTHERIN INDEED! AH, THREATEN AND SHUT THAT ROTTEN BUNCH UP, YEAH," says an applauding Lee, while Harry spots Snape striding along the front of the Slytherin stands.

The Potions Master's stern warnings immediately silences the minority, as the rest of the House show their approval. In fact, Snape appears to be walking around with ink, quill, and parchment in hand while adeptly taking down names for disciplinary measures. It appears to mainly be the seventh-year (and some sixth-years) students throwing out these insults. Faced with an inevitable week's worth of detention, though, makes them reluctantly maintain silence.

"So what if Granger's a Muggleborn?" asks Lee to the crowd. "Viktor Krum once fancied her, and so does  _the_  Harry Potter himself! I'll bet that Harry's trained her up real good to handle a Firebolt, yep."

With all discriminative slurs finally stamped out of the crowd, Harry soon lands in the centre of the pitch.

"The  _Daily Prophet_  is here, as well as professional players and families too," says Madam Hooch, glaring at Team Slytherin. "You'd better not give this school a rotten name... understand?"

Slight nods come from Nott's group, although Harry can already tell they'll be playing dirty today. Still, he remains courteous as the pre-match proceedings take place.

"Mount your brooms... on my whistle...three—two—one—" Hooch observes the players climbing onto their Firebolts, then she blows her whistle as the balls are finally released. Fourteen players scramble into position, with the Keepers going nearly full-speed towards their goalposts. Crabbe and Goyle, as well as Fred and George immediately take to keeping a lookout for Bludgers while six players prepare to engage in the centre.

"Firebolt showdown here we go! Hope you've brought your Omnioculars or have a keen sense of sight as it's Ginny who's got first possession today. Harry and Angelina now flanking her on the side as Vaisey and Nott come in for a Parkin's Pincer attack. They're trying a 2-on-1 here, folks but nope, not going to work! There goes Ginny as she rolls out the way from the incoming Nott, Quaffle passed to Harry who immediately passed back... gosh, I'm just going to say their names for this one."

Indeed, Ginny and Harry manoeuvre the Quaffle in similar fashion to the World Cup players, and it flies like a bullet between the advancing pair.

"Am I even needed here today?" asks a laughing Angelina, flying behind her two Chasers as they move down the right flank.

"Ginny! Harry! Ginny! She flies down and around Vaisey... where's Montague? Anyway, Quaffl—ugh, Harry! Ginny! Man they're barking fast!" says Lee.

As he cuts in from the right flank, Harry turns to catch the Quaffle tossed beneath Nott by Ginny. Then he moves sideways in preparation to challenge the awaiting Zabini.

"Alright, the Chosen One is in position after a brilliant pass from Ginny. Zabini's trying to cover that right hoop as Harry comes in—OOH! THAT'S GOTTA HURT!"

The sneer on Zabini's face alerts Harry to something happening at the far left of the pitch. Then a quick glance has him spotting Hermione being barged into by Montague after she'd taken a Bludger from Goyle.

"Thanks for the Quaffle, Scarhead," says Nott, swiping the ball away during Harry's momentary glance towards the seemingly uninjured Hermione.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" yells Ginny, as Nott and Vaisey manage to bypass her en route down the flank. "What the hell, Harry? You were in for goal!"

"What an unlucky moment for Harry Potter, who seems to have been more concerned over our Seeker than his own goal. Come on, lad, what else can you expect from Slytherin in a final?" asks Lee, as most of the student crowd groans in frustration.

"Get your priorities in order, Harry!" says Angelina, as Harry turns around to fly beside her in pursuit of Nott and Vaisey. "Fred! Go shield Hermione before they start using her as a distraction."

"I'll watch your lovey-dovey, Harry, but you need to keep cool! Don't forget that Slytherin are coming into this game with a thirty point deficit on the table... so they're motivated as hell," says Fred, breaking off to fly across the pitch. Meanwhile, the trio of Gryffindor Chasers close down on Vaisey and Nott as the action moves to the centre of the pitch. Three-on-two makes for a fairly easier time as Harry comes up beside Nott while Angelina man-marks Vaisey, then Ginny comes in for an attempt at swiping the Quaffle.

"She's going for it... oh, unlucky! Nott slips free of Ginny's grab as the Quaffle goes to Vaisey. They're now right up in front of Ron! Man, those Firebolts are fast as heck. Vaisey taking the shot, SAVED by our boy Ron, and now it's Harry who catches the deflected Quaffle."

"Pass it here!" says Ginny, flying to Harry's left as the trio of Chasers go down the centre. With Nott and Vaisey now being joined by Montague, Harry aims right but trick throws left for Ginny to catch.

"Think you're smart, Potter?" sneers Nott, gesturing towards the searching Hermione being the target of many Bludger shots. "Your Weasel twins can't keep her safe all game long, and the Mudblood doesn't even have much game experience, does she? Bad move, idiot." Once Nott links up with his Chasers to pursue Angelina and Ginny down the centre, Harry can't help but sneak a glance every so often at Hermione. Although she's in safe hands as Fred blocks shot after shot, the whole dirty play sparks a sense of unease in Harry.

"Oh great, yep, he's distracted now," says Lee, "Focus on the game and not your girlfriend, Harry! Just because we're thirty points up, even with nought-nought on this scoreline, doesn't give us reason to relax."

Harry zips forward to catch up with the action happening just beyond the centre of the pitch. A reddish blur coming at him turns out to be the Quaffle, which he swiftly catches. The ball's enchantment has it acting like a magnet to his right hand, until Harry hurls it left for Angelina to catch.

"Oh yeah! Gryffindor moving from the centre as Angelina takes that Quaffle forward. She dodges that Bludger, passes to Ginny who passes to Harry again. Alright, he's looking for Angelina as the Slytherin Chasers close in for the Quaffle."

_WHACK!_ And the crowd cheers before giving a slight applause.

"Nice hit by Fred on that first Bludger before Hermione ducked the second. Now it's Crabbe and Goyle both following up as they once again target Gryffindor's Seeker, leaving Malfoy to carry on his search unhindered."

A glance to the far right has Harry missing Nott, who speeds past him as Slytherin bolts towards goal.

"HARRY! For crying out loud take your mind off Hermione!" shouts Ginny, as she and Angelina turn around to pursue their opponents. Harry joins in as well but, by the time they catch up, Slytherin soon gets its first goal courtesy of...

"VAISEY! TEN-ZERO TO THE SNAKES! Come on, Harry Potter, Chaser's a three man game, you know," says Lee, while a mixed reaction of cheers and silence comes from the Slytherin stands.

The match continues as both Slytherin Beaters target Hermione, causing Fred and George to deflect their Bludgers towards Nott's trio. Then, midway through a Slytherin counterattack, Montague breaks off to 'accidentally' barge into Hermione nearby. Although the whistle is blown, Hooch gives no more than a stern warning while letting play continue.

"Harry and Ginny are coming in for the Quaffle after that distraction... Nott just about passes around Ginny as Montague seizes it... goes forward... shoots... SAVED by Ron again! Quaffle on the rebound near the left hoop as Angelina dives to try and reach it. Here comes Harry and Ginny to block Vaisey and Nott, but it's Montague who pushes his Firebolt ahead to get that Quaffle. Vaisey and Nott back off to let Montague chance another go... SCORED! TWENTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN."

A few minutes later sees Harry yet again glancing towards Hermione, as she slaloms in the centre of the pitch with two Bludgers speeding her way. One is deflected towards Montague while the second hits Hermione on the armguard.

"Are you alright?" asks Harry, still looking her way as she flies past him.

"I'm not hopeless in the air, you know. So focus on your match! Look, the opponent Chasers are giving Angelina and Ginny a tough time in our half. Go help them out before...damnit!" Hermione, and every other Gryffindor supporter, groans yet again as Nott outwits Ginny and Ron to score through the centre hoop.

"THIRTY-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN, AND NOW WE'RE LEVEL AT 490 EACH ON THE TABLE," says Lee, "Hey! Quit fussing over Hermione, Harry, REALLY NOW."

Angelina soars in from below to hover between Harry and Hermione near one corner of the pitch. "If subs were allowed then I'd seriously consider it! Think with your brain and not your junk, Harry. Look at her," Angelina gestures towards the smiling Hermione. "She's bloody okay and fine... what else do you need to hear? For God's sake stop worrying over her like she's a fragile infant or something."

While Harry continues to be told off, Ginny yells out as she's beaten to the posts. Neither she nor Ron could outmanoeuvre two Bludgers and Montague before the Quaffle comes in for a fourth Slytherin goal.

"Angelina, just call a time out or something if you need to discuss things," says Lee, "You're practically gifting those goals to Slytherin now, though, and Harry needs to wake up already. Forty-Zero to the Snakes, putting them ten points ahead in total."

Regardless of the scoreline, Hermione smiles as she spins her broom in a circle before taking off in search of the Snitch. This leaves a frowning Angelina to snap her fingers in front of Harry's face. "Wake up! If we blow our second chance at finally getting the Cup, because you're too obsessed with Hermione... argh! How can you be so gullible as to not realise what your own Housemates are doing—"

"FIFTY-ZERO TO THE SNAKES AS NOTT GETS THAT ONE PAST THE LEFT HOOP!" yells Lee, while the minority of Slytherin jeers and whistles. Then, as Harry finally turns around to join up with the scowling Ginny, the rest of the crowd goes fairly quiet. "BLUDGER TO OUR SEEKER'S ARM, AND THAT KNOCKS HER RIGHT OFF HER BROOM."

"Right off her what?" Harry spins his Firebolt in the direction of the downed Hermione.

"She fell less than 10 feet onto the damn grass," sighs Angelina nearby, "She's—not—hurt—at—all!"

Even though Hermione easily mounts her broom once more, Harry ignores Angelina before streaking off towards George nearby. "Give me that bat, Fred!"

"Man, seriously, you need to calm dow— oh, that's gonna be a penalty for sure," says George, as Harry chases and whacks a nearby Bludger towards Crabbe.

"What a swing!" says Lee, "Harry's just knocked Goyle off his broom... and that's a penalty against Gryffindor."

Harry endures a stern warning by Madam Hooch before Nott takes the penalty shot...

"SAVED by Ron! Oliver would be proud of that one, lad. I'm talking about Oliver Wood; for those who aren't aware, he was Gryffindor's Captain for many years until 1994. Perhaps he's in the crowd somewhere? Who knows. But what we do know is that Harry needs to quit worrying over Hermione and start the domination out there."

After seeing Hermione flash him a radiant smile while mounting her broom, Harry feels a sense of ease. He soon returns the bat to its rightful owner before carrying on with the match. This is followed by linking up with Ginny at the centre-right of the pitch while Angelina carries the Quaffle towards them.

"So, finished losing your mind over Hermione?" asks Ginny, "Good, now quit embarrassing us in front of such a huge crowd, please."

"Take it, and do something with it," says Angelina, passing the Quaffle to Harry as they push forward with Nott, Montague, and Vaisey giving chase. Even with Hermione under constant threat, Harry entrusts the twins with her safety as he begins the attack. Seconds turn to minutes as the trio of Gryffindor Chasers battle against their Slytherin counterparts.

"Ginny! Harry! Ginny! Angelina, who now flies over Nott before going upwards... Slytherin Chasers now following her in the climb... Yeah, girl! Angelina does the Porskoff Ploy well, and now Harry's got the Quaffle as he breaks away from behind the Slytherin Chasers. Harry's zigzagging his way like a pro to confuse Zabini. Look at that lad burst forward on his Slytherin-coloured Firebolt! The King of Slytherin comes in from the right, and Zabini moves across the hoops... Two Bludgers coming in hot for Hermione, but Fred and George are taking up positions."

"Your Mudblood's gonna get smashed, Potter!" says Zabini, as Harry moves sideways while repeatedly rolling left. Then he streaks across the face of goal while feigning a shot to the centre, but only to hurl the Quaffle left.

"... through the left hoop, GET IN THERE, HARRY! THE CHOSEN ONE SHOWS US HIS SKILLS TO GIVE GRYFFINDOR THEIR FIRST GOAL OF THE MATCH! FIFTY-TEN IN FAVOUR OF SLYTHERIN."

Roars of cheers and applause resonate across the stands, eliciting a grin from Harry. A blur of red below him shows Hermione enjoying herself while searching for the Snitch, which only widens Harry's smile.

"Bludger incoming!" says Lee, before Fred hurries over to whack it away from Harry, and towards the oncoming Vaisey. "Unlucky for Goyle as his Bludger is deflected towards Vaisey, who just about blocks with those new armguards."

Harry scoffs while looking towards Fred, "Hey, go and make life difficult for that blond wanker searching for the Snitch."

"Give them a taste of their own medicine? You bet!" Fred speeds off in pursuit of whichever Bludger he can find and aim at Malfoy. This is immediately spotted by the crowd and Lee Jordan.

"Now he's thinking! Looks like Harry's directed Fred to attack Malfoy in order to ease the pressure on our Hermione. That leaves either Crabbe or Goyle to defend their Seeker while the other would do... whatever they've got planned."

It appears that Goyle opts to shield Malfoy while Crabbe is tasked with whacking Bludgers towards Hermione, which George deflects. This leaves the Chasers relatively free of attacks as they concentrate on outplaying their opponents, a feat which goes in favour of Gryffindor.

"Right in the centre, we have Nott being dispossessed by Harry who passes to Angelina. She ducks beneath Montague before passing to Ginny down the middle of the pitch. Ginny and Harry now establishing that skilful partnership as the Quaffle goes left... right... left... up.. and down between them. Vaisey and Nott are just clueless to Ginny and Harry's skills... What is that? Oh, looks like they're flying around each other in a circle while going forward. Now that takes some serious skill and synchronization to get right! Those two sure know each other's game well, I must say... Oh wow, it's a GOAL FROM GINNY! Zabini never stood a chance as it's now FIFTY-TWENTY IN THIS MATCH, AND 510-510 ON THE LOG!"

Harry applauds the celebrating Ginny after she'd made Zabini look like a fool at his posts. "That was just too easy; shall we do it again?"

"Certainly! And take your worries away from Hermione, alright?" Ginny turns around as the Gryffindor Chasers leave the scoring area before Zabini restarts play. The Quaffle now goes to Montague who flies to his right to head down Slytherin's right flank. Harry speeds off in pursuit to intercept his former teammate, who yells insults at him.

"Flint's not here to hold your hand anymore, Potter! We were only nice because of that big fool."

"Take this, you Inquisitorial bastard!" mocks Ginny, exploiting Montague's brief distraction to seize the Quaffle.

"You _Poorblood_ scum—"

"The only scumbags I see are you and your team, Montague," says Harry, gesturing a middle finger while spinning around to fly beside Ginny. They now streak past the packed visitors' stands at over 100mph, and the rush of wind drowns out all noise. Only once they finally slow down near the left Slytherin post can Harry hear Ginny.

"I said you can take this one!"

"There's no way I'd hear you at those speeds," says Harry, laughing as the Quaffle is tossed his way. One look over his right shoulder shows three Slytherin Chasers coming in at near full speed. "Now watch this, Little Miss Muffet!" He swerves while coming to a halt just as the Slytherin trio speed past him, unable to stop in time as Harry then beats Zabini to the centre post.

"Screw you, Pothead!"

"Not my fault you're a shit Keeper," Harry swiftly stands atop his broom to open his arms wide in celebration. Now it's Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and over half the Slytherin stands who applaud his goal. Then comes the staff and visitors to complete a wave of thunderous applause.

"... THE CHOSEN ONE SCORES AGAIN, WITH EVEN SOME SLYTHERINS CHEERING THAT ONE ON! THAT MAKES IT FIFTY-THIRTY, AND GRYFFINDOR ARE NOW TEN POINTS AHEAD IN TOTAL. You see, even though the Firebolt contains an Unbreakable Braking Charm, you still gotta have the skill to stop it with precision... like our boy, Harry Potter!"

Angelina flies forward to high-five both of her Chasers for their efforts. "Much better, you two! This is the kind of play worthy of being the twins and my final game at school. I'll try to keep up with you crazy talented flyers."

Since Harry's not had to stress over Hermione for the past nineteen minutes, all seems well as the match continues. Both teams steadily growing more aggressive with their strategies to claim possession of this year's Quidditch Cup.

 


	30. Pitched Battle

"First you take away my father, and now you're trying to take away our Cup?"

"Your father took himself away by serving Voldemort, and don't blame me for bringing justice to this year's previous joke of a final."

"WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN, EVERYTHING, POTTER? NOW YOU'RE TRYING TO DISGRACE ME BY PUTTING YOUR MUDBLOOD IN SEARCH OF THE SNITCH?"

"You're just like your father, aren't you? I heard him confess in the graveyard that he's 'never renounced the old ways'."

"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY FATHER—"

"Potter, Malfoy, what in the world are you two yelling about up here? There's a match that needs to be played!" says Madam Hooch, flying towards the arguing pair near the visitors' stands. To Harry's right hovers the referee, while a swarm of faces look up from his left.

"He's blaming me for having his father exposed and dumped in prison," says Harry, as more Slytherin players converge on Malfoy's position. In response, the Gryffindors rush over to Harry's defence.

"Leave those arguments for off the pitch, both of you!" Madam Hooch frowns in annoyance as Nott comes flying in with threats and accusations towards Harry. Then comes a loud blast of whistle as Hooch penalises Nott for his 'unruly language'. "Penalty to Gryffindor, as I will not tolerate such vulgar swearing and threats in this game."

"HOW DARE YOU BETRAY YOUR OWN HOUSE, POTTER?" shouts Nott, whose raised voice can be heard by the crowd from over ten metres away. "HOW DARE YOU THROW MY FATHER Potter IN PRISON?"

"YOUR FATHER'S AN IDIOT FOR SERVING VOLDEMORT! SERVES HIM RIGHT TO BE LOCKED UP," yells Harry.

As expected, the use of Voldemort's name brings a variety of reactions from the crowd nearby. Now, Hermione flies down to hover beside Harry. "Just leave it; you're better than getting all worked up on  _them_."

"Shut your Mudblood mouth, Granger. Quidditch is the noble sport of warlocks, and your filthy kind has no place polluting our ancient game. Why don't you go join Thomas to kick a ball,  _on the ground_ , like a bunch of stupid Muggles?" asks a snarling Malfoy.

"Yeah, you tell that thing," says a nodding Vaisey.

"That's it, another penalty to Gryffindor," says Hooch, "I can't send you boys off, but keep talking like this and it'll be more and more free shots against you."

"Run your dirty mouth one more time, Malfoy, then you'll see..." warns Fred, brandishing his bat while Madam Hooch glares at him as well.

"Enjoy this game, Potter," says a smirking Nott, "Enjoy playing around with your filthy team. This is a once-off exception for you, but, next year means no more games. There is no way in hell that I'm putting you on my team, swine; nor will I ever relinquish my Captain's badge."

"Looks like we have one big verbal row going on over there," says Lee Jordan, as Madam Hooch signals a few gestures towards him. "And it seems that Gryffindor has got two penalties due to... blatant discrimination and unacceptable language from Malfoy and Nott? Let me guess, they were attacking Hermione Granger  _again_ , as usual."

"Make way for the penalties!" orders Hooch, blasting her whistle to have the players scatter across the pitch. Seconds later sees Harry passing the Quaffle to a startled Hermione.

"There's no explicit rule against Seekers taking penalties, as far as I'm aware. You take it."

"M-Me? Oh, um, I haven't had time to thoroughly practice using a Quaffle, Harry."

"Heh, you're so adorable when you're confused," Harry places his hands atop Hermione's as she holds the Quaffle. "Doesn't matter if you miss the first one, because I'm sure you'll get two more shots."

"But we only have two penalties," says Hermione, to which Harry winks.

"I know my Housemates well enough by now. Professor Dumbledore's not the only one who can analyse people. Go for it, you beautiful girl from Hampstead."

With Quaffle in hand, Hermione laughs while hovering towards the centre of the pitch. "So dramatic for a few penalties, Harry."

Lee Jordan grabs his megaphone while speaking. "What do we have here? Looks like the Chosen One's having his chosen girl take the first penalty. She's planning now, alright... Must be at least a dozen calculations going on inside that clever head. Probably linking the Astronomy star charts and planetary alignments, coupled with some Arithmancy—"

"Jordan! That's enough," says the voice of McGonagall beside Lee, though Harry hears more amusement than anger in her tone.

Hermione speeds forward on her Firebolt, and ignores the wave of boos coming from under half of Slytherin. Then she banks right, which Zabini matches by going left, before swerving to her left upon shooting for the centre hoop.

"SAVED BY ZABINI!"

The booing Slytherins applaud Zabini as he points and laughs at a slightly red-faced Hermione. "Haha! Not so clever now, are you? MUDBLOODS can't handle Quaffles, 'genius', so go kick a... what's that thing called... oh yeah, a soccer ball!"

"We call it a football," says a disappointed Hermione, before Madam Hooch blows her whistle to announce an extra penalty. This immediately brings a smirk to Harry's face as he's read Zabini quite well.

"Harry, I think you should rather take them," says Hermione, hovering towards the smiling Chaser.

Leaning forward to whisper in Hermione's ear, Harry pats her on the shoulder. "Go for the right hoop next, I think he'll be guarding the centre and left ones. If he deflects, then hit the Quaffle towards the centre on the rebound. And don't fly straight towards the right one, make him guess right up until you're a few metres away."

"Alright, I'll try... But you'd better take the third one!"

"I will; now go spread your wings, future Head Girl," Harry feels a surge of anticipation in his chest from wanting Hermione to succeed. With the crowd buzzing and players cheering, he bites his lip as Hermione flies forward before swiftly going for the right hoop.

"IT'S IN, THAT'S A GOAL BY OUR GENIUS GRANGER! The academic seeker makes it fifty-forty, with Slytherin leading the match but not the log table," says Lee.

Ignoring the raging Zabini, Hermione streaks back to pass the Quaffle to Harry while beaming at him. "I've scored, Harry! Did you see that?"

"I sure did; way to go! High-five!" Their palms meet in a loud slap. Then, Harry tosses the Quaffle up with his left hand before catching it in his right. "Watch and learn, Snuggleborn, and maybe take some notes too."

Lee, meanwhile, whistles from behind the megaphone. "Harry Potter's taking the third penalty as Gryffindor hopes to level our match scoreline. It's Slytherin-on-Slytherin now, folks!"

More than a few eager faces watch from the crowd as Harry speeds forward. He's taken countless penalties before in practice, and knows exactly what to do upon nearing Zabini. After speeding straight, Harry executes a sudden turn right before spinning his broom 180 degrees to face left once more. As Zabini's stubbornly in position, Harry dives to approach the left (and lowest) hoop.

"Not going to work, Potter!" Zabini quickly rolls to guard the lowest hoop. To his surprise, though, Harry suddenly pulls up in a steep climb while leaning low on his broom. The Quaffle is then tossed to hover near the centre hoop before Harry whacks it with his Firebolt's tail end.

"WHAT A GOAL BY THE BOY-WHO-LIVED! He opts to get up close and personal, instead of going for range, to slot home that shot! But I'm sure taking a penalty is far easier than fighting You-Know-Who at the Ministry, eh? Such skill, such style, and now it's fifty-all as Gryffindor's thirty point lead is restored."

Harry's efforts are met with a boom of applause from both crowd and teammates, the latter of whom swarm him with congratulations. This includes Hermione who claps most enthusiastically. "WOOHOOOOOO!"

"Come on, guys, it's just one penalty," says a grinning Harry, "Alright, alright..."

The game resumes as Zabini passes to Vaisey, who forms up with Montague and Nott going straight down the centre. But, minutes later, Gryffindor comes charging forward with Ginny barging into Vaisey. Then she tosses the Quaffle up before punching it to the right, over Montague, for Harry to catch. Even with all the speed of a Firebolt, Nott simply cannot keep up with Harry as the latter goes for goal.

"Watch this, Little Red Riding Hood!" he yells to Ginny, as she keeps clear of the scoring zone. It's no big hurdle for Harry to slalom past the incoming Nott, while en route to flying diagonally near the centre hoop. Zabini comes out to intercept, but Harry swiftly turns right before taking aim. Not only does the Quaffle go flying through, but so does Nott and Zabini as Harry has them colliding into each other... as well as the hoop itself.

"Another goal by Harry Potter as he makes those Slytherin players look silly! It's now Sixty-Fifty in favour of Team Gryffindor," says Lee Jordan, sniggering at Nott and Zabini scrambling to their brooms at the foot of the goalposts.

"Trying to upstage me on my own team, huh?" asks Ginny, to which Harry grins and shrugs with an overly innocent expression. "Don't give me that sweet look, Harry Potter."

Play resumes, and this time it's Ginny who moves forward once Angelina's dispossessed Montague. Tremendous cheers come from the stands as Ginny outwits and outflies Montague and Vaisey just inches from the grass. Then along comes Goyle to whack a Bludger nearby, but Ginny's quick reactions has it hitting the pursuing Vaisey instead.

"Such skill, such grace! Ginny's quite an ace! There she goes, coming in from the right hoop at a remarkable pace. Zabini's going for the save... gets his fingertips to it... but Ginny punches the Quaffle on the rebound. THROUGH THE RIGHT HOOP AND WE'RE NOW SEVENTY-FIFTY TO GRYFFINDOR! That also brings the overall gap between these teams to fifty points in favour of the Lions."

Chants and cheers once again resonate across most of the student body, especially Gryffindor whose excitement at nearing the Cup is almost tangible. The level of noise indeed raises the hairs on Harry's neck as he applauds Ginny's goal.

"I might as well go sleep or study for my N.E.W.T.s," says Angelina, flying past Harry to the right of the pitch. "You and Ginny together... Gryffindor would've won year in and year out like that."

"Or Slytherin, if she'd been in my House," says Harry.

"Please, they would've insulted her on a daily basis."

"Please, I would've kicked their arses on a daily basis," Harry gives a cheeky smile. "But we have won year in and year out, so there's no difference, really."

"Hey, Harry," says Lee Jordan over the megaphone. "Care to save a few goals for our lovely Captain? Maybe give her some luck before the exams?"

Grinning and gesturing a thumbs up, Harry gets back into position as the Slytherin Chasers link up with Goyle. Now it's three on four down the left flank, and Goyle's Bludger shot misses both Harry and Ginny by a noticeable distance.

"TOO MUCH SKILL! Just give it up, Goyle, because the Chosen One and our youngest Weasley talent are flying rings around you. Look at them go, folks! Down the left of the pitch we have Harry passing to Ginny who gifts it to Angelina. Ginny and Harry now staying clear of the scoring zone as Montague and Nott storm in with their Firebolts. Angelina's cutting in from the left, rounds the Keeper, narrowly evades Vaisey's reach... she shoots... IN THROUGH THE RIGHT HOOP! CAPTAIN'S GOAL! AND IT'S EIGHTY-FIFTY TO GRYFFINDOR OUT HERE."

"Praise your leader!" shouts Angelina, holding out her arms as Fred and George grab her in side-hugs for their celebration.

"Time out," says Madam Hooch, blowing her whistle upon seeing Nott gesturing a 'T' with his hands. "Slytherins, over there by your stands... that doesn't include you for today, Potter. Gryffindors, land by your side, please."

Since none of the Seekers have spotted the Snitch prior to the time-out call, they're obliged to land with their teams as well. Robes of green huddle together beneath a divided Slytherin crowd, but Team Gryffindor lands to a flurry of cheers, whistles, and faces beaming down upon them.

"So, inside man, what do you suppose those Slytherins are discussing?" asks Angelina to a shrugging Harry.

"I don't know anything about playing under Nott's leadership, so I can't answer that. Now if it was Flint, then I'd be a juicy source of info." He then turns to a pensive Hermione standing nearby. "What's wrong? Where's that earlier smile on your dial?"

"There's that look," says Ginny, "She also gets it close to her tests and assignment due dates. Don't stress, Hermione, there's no way Malfoy's going to beat you at this rate."

"I was hoping to have at least seen the Snitch once by now," admits Hermione, while looking nervously at Harry. "What if Malfoy does catch it? I'd never hear the end of those cockroaches throwing insults at me for costing Gryffindor's best chance at getting the Cup."

Even with crowds of students looking on, Harry reaches to hold Hermione's hand. "You won't lose this match."

"And why's that?"

"You're with me," says Harry, tilting his head while giving her a fond smile. "Don't forget that I nearly beat your previous boyfriend last year."

"Harry's got a point," says Ron, walking away from the group of Fred, George, and Angelina huddled together. "Stop being so stressed out over everything; this is Quidditch! This ain't the O.W.L.s or anything. You were doing fairly well in the air earlier, so don't over thinking things."

"I just don't like all this uncertainty! Where exactly is the Snitch and what is it doing now? It could be anywhere... by the stands, near the ground, by the goalposts, far up in the air—"

"Calm your fine arse, Hermione!" says Harry. "Embrace the uncertainty, and just think about how fitting it would be to see that Malfoy maniac put in his place. It's always been blood this, blood that with him! Were you even paying attention to the crap they said earlier? Quidditch isn't for 'Mudbloods'? What dragon dung is that coming out of their lying mouths?"

Fred walks over to address Hermione. "Don't sweat it now; it's only the closest we've gotten to winning the Quidditch Cup since getting it in '86. That's a whole decade, Granger."

"Yeah," adds George, with a nod to Harry before looking at the anxious Hermione. "Why do you think the Chosen One's playing  _this_  good today? The last time we've actually had Gryffindor and Slytherin rescheduled in the final, like  _this_ , without outside interference..."—He looks to Angelina, who smiles guiltily at what she's tried last year—"...was probably all the way back in '78. Use your clever mind and guess who was the superstar Chaser of Gryffindor back then."

Madam Hooch comes jogging over with her broom in hand. "Mount your brooms; time-out's officially over."

"Yes, ma'am! Get back on those Firebolts, boys and girls," orders Angelina, before Team Gryffindor takes off to reposition themselves again. "Fred and George, keep your eyes on Hermione!"

"Yep."

"You bet."

"Aaaaaand they're off once again after a bit of time-out from Theodore Nott," says Lee Jordan. "Maybe a change of tactics? Some renewed spirits? Who knows! But what we do know is that it's now Angelina in possession after Ginny and Harry's excellent Parkin's Pincer on Vaisey. All the action's going right down the centre as Slytherin regroups to form the Hawkshead Attacking Formation... in defence! They're coming in like an arrow against the trio of Gryffindor Chasers who now split up! Brilliant play as Harry goes left with the Quaffle, followed by Ginny breaking right of the Slytherin group and Angelina ducking beneath those boys. Crabbe and Goyle are both coming in hot on Hermione's tail..."

_SLAM!_

"What the—" Harry finds himself barged between Nott and Vaisey, who seize hold of his broom in a diagonal dive. "Let go, YOU ARSEHOLES!"

"FOUL! LET GO OF POTTER'S BROOM RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" shouts Madam Hooch, furiously blowing her whistle to award a Gryffindor penalty yet again. But the duo refuse to listen as they speed up, before Vaisey slams his elbow to Harry's side. "FOUL AGAIN."

"What are they doing?" asks Lee, "Trying to take out the main threat? Dirty stinking—"

" _Jordan,_  calm down!" warns McGonagall beside him.

The grass grows nearer by the second as Harry's unable to break free of the forced dive, then he finally sees the Chasers flying out to the sides. It would be doable for Harry to now pull his Firebolt upward, if not for the sudden Bludger that he barely blocks. Jeers and laughter echo across over a quarter of Slytherin as Harry hits the ground; his broom tumbling metres ahead along the grass.

"OH! HE'S DOWN BUT STILL GOING," yells Lee, "COME ON, HARRY, DON'T LET THOSE SNAKES GET THE BETTER OF YOU!"

Far to the right and above, Zabini earns much applause from his supporters after saving the first Gryffindor penalty, taken by Ginny. Now, Harry gets back to his feet while walking past one spectator tower near the visitors' stands.

"That-a-boy! Looks like Harry's back on his feet near the visitors' stands as he looks to get back onto his broom. We're still Eighty-Fifty as Angelina moves into position for the second penalty..."

Something appears to move in the exit of the visitors' tower nearest to Harry. If he hadn't chanced a glance left, then he might not have seen it. Regardless, an uneasy feeling builds from within as Harry reaches to the zipped pocket beneath his Quidditch robes.

"...the lovely Captain's making her way down the centre flank with Quaffle in hand. Soon, it'll be one-on-one with Zabini who seems to have somewhat found his form..."

_"Crucio!"_

"What the shi—" Harry swiftly casts his Shield Charm to take the blast of Cruciatus sent his way, then he spots an unfamiliar face stepping out from the tower. "ARE YOU BLOODY MAD?"

It appears to be a young man, no more than a few years older than Harry, dressed in casual robes. With large, protruding ears and a face full of pimples, this stranger is indeed an unknown to Harry.

"I should've seen this coming!" says Harry to the staring young man, who cares not upon flinging a few more Curses towards Harry. "Who are you... AND WHAT MADNESS IS TH—" Harry fires a Knockback Jinx which misses the young man, before the latter simply runs up to him while flinging a Severing Charm.

_"Diffindo!"_

" _Impedimenta_!" counters Harry, ducking the Charm as his Impediment Jinx shatters the man's Shield Charm. Now, a few of the spectators in the stands, far above, yell and scream.

"...ugh, saved again by Zabini as we're still... What the hell? SON OF A BITCH... SOMEONE DO SOMETHING! HARRY POTTER'S UNDER ATTACK AT THE BASE OF THE SECOND VISITORS' TOWER! WHO THE HELL IS TRYING TO... BLOODY HELL, IT'S STAN SHUNPIKE FROM THE KNIGHT BUS! WHERE ARE THE AURORS, ANYONE?"

"Stan who...? Oh man." Harry pays little attention to the blast of whistle that halts the game in the midst of a wave of screams across the stadium. Now, Harry's teammates blitz across the field on their Firebolts before being told, by Hooch, to stay back.

"Shunpike, or whoever the hell you are," Harry blocks another Cruciatus Curse, "WHAT IN CRAP IS THE MEANING OF THIS? ARE YOU A DAMN DEATH EATER?" No response from Shunpike, and soon a fairly familiar man exits the tower to attack Harry as well, causing the latter to yell out in frustration. "You're either Death Eaters, supporters, or Imperiused bitches!  _CONFRINGO_!"

The blast narrowly misses the two men (who've taken cover inside the tower's doorway).

_"Stupefy!"_ shouts the second man, although his spell simply fizzles against Harry's barrier.

_"EXPULSO!"_

Harry's Curse blasts Shunpike into the tower, and the latter ends up lodged between shattered beams of wood. Then comes Sirius' voice right above and beside Harry, who looks up in surprise to see his godfather having leapt off the viewing tower far above.

_"Molliare!"_

Landing harmlessly via his Cushioning Charm, Sirius instantly takes to duelling and knocking out the second assailant. Seconds later, Moody kicks open the tower door after having descended from the visitors' stands.

"POTTER! You alright?" he asks, while Sirius identifies the second attacker.

"Florean Fortescue? What the...? Are you alright, Harry? Any injuries?"

"I'm fine... just... what is the meaning of this? Getting attacked by a bus conductor and ice-cream man is NOT part of Quidditch!"

"Fourth-year class, Potter, my first one," growls Moody, while conjuring thick ropes around Fortescue. Then he looks at the bleeding Shunpike and whistles. "You sure did a number on this poor lad."

"So they were Imperiused?" asks Harry.

"No sure way to tell right now, but we'll need to immediately send Shunpike to the Hospital Wing. I don't blame you for retaliating with such ferocity, Harry, as I would've done the same."

While Lee Jordan expresses his bewilderment to the nearly silent crowd, Moody levitates the heavily injured (and unconscious) Shunpike out the stadium. Fortescue is left bound until none other than Professor Dumbledore himself steps through the tower door.

"I knew this was a bad idea, Professor," says Sirius to Dumbledore. "My godson nearly got done in because of all this unnecessary publicity! We should've denied all these excess spectators entrance, and Filch should've done his damn job properly!"

"Calm down, Sirius; I believe Harry's quite fine." Dumbledore flicks his wand to instantly repair any and all damage to the stands caused by the brief duel. "Now the Ministry will have no choice but to ban such a packed attendance to our games. It could have been a lot worse, Harry, as I've already worked to reduce our spectators. Our current crowd is merely half of whom have clamoured to view 'the Chosen One.'"

"It's not your fault, sir; we can always blame the Ministry... as usual," Harry grits his teeth as Madam Hooch flies over to assess his condition.

"I'm calling this game off, Potter, for your own safety."

"NO BLOODY WAY!"

"As much as I admire your dedication to Quiddi—"

Dumbledore shakes his head. "The decision is Harry's, and we all know what he's aspired to do here. The entire staff are now watching the stands, including each of our Houses as well. I daresay we will not have another slip such as this."

"Are you absolutely sure, Headmaster? I think it's fairly obvious why those two had ambushed Mr. Potter," says Madam Hooch. "Times have changed; first Umbridge, and now You-Know-You himself seems to be ruining my job..."

"I'm not going to just stand here and let Voldemort and his followers ruin my life. If someone's trying to scare me, then I'll do the exact opposite. Game on, Madam."

"Fine, but let's hope none of us come to regret this," Hooch flies off towards the commentary box where she informs Lee Jordan of recent events. This leaves a fuming Sirius to kick at Fortescue before dragging the unconscious vendor away to be taken by the Aurors. Meanwhile, Dumbledore gives Harry a nod as the former lingers behind while Harry takes off on his Firebolt.

Lee's voice is once again heard. "Looks like Harry Potter's been attacked by Florean Fortescue as well... the damn ice-cream vendor from Diagon Alley! Now I'm hearing that Shunpike has suffered serious injuries and is being taken to the Hospital Wing. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING WITH THE CHOSEN ONE... who's actually going to carry on playing? What a hard lad!"

Harry's reception is exactly as expected: the Gryffindor team surrounding him with incredulous expressions and hordes of questions.

"Were they Imperiused?" asks a horrified Hermione. "I... can't believe you're actually carrying on with this game! What if something even worse happens to you?"

"Nothing—will—happen!" yells Harry, slamming his fist on his broom while glancing wildly towards the group of Slytherin players nearby. "PLANNED THIS OUT NICELY WITH YOUR DARK LORD SUPPORTERS OUT THERE, HAVE YOU?"

"WHAT? NO!" replies a shocked Nott. "Although it was quite funny..."

What  _is_  funny to Harry, though, is a Bludger whacked at Nott (who narrowly evades) by a livid George. "Lucky miss, Nott, let's see how long your stupid team can stay in this match."

"I'm not so desperate for one piece of silverware, which gets returned if you don't retain it next year, as to put your life at risk, Harry!" says Angelina, hovering beside him in the centre of the pitch. "Get down and get safe; we'll bend the rules with a substitute now."

"Substitution... MY ARSE! Harry  _James_  Potter is not fleeing like a bitch from a little Imperius 'scare'. So, shut up and let's PLAY QUIDDITCH!"

"My God, Harry," gasps Ginny, "Are you sure you don't need help? Perhaps a bit of sitting down and talking would be of benef—"

"Step one: GRAB QUAFFLE. Step two: MOVE WITH QUAFFLE. Step three: SCORE WITH QUAFFLE," says a heavily-breathing Harry.

"I think he's finally gone over the edge," mutters Ron, before hurrying back to guard his posts.

"Voldemort's going to regret the day he intruded on my fun and games," says Harry, clenching his teeth while almost unfeeling of Hermione rubbing his back. "My father would never back down if he were in this very situation."

"Now you sound like Malfoy," says Ginny, "Okay, fine, we'll carry on."

"That's right!" says Harry, "SHUNPIKE CAN GET KNOCKED OVER BY A PARKED BUS FOR ALL I CARE, AND FORTESCUE CAN SUCK ON HIS ICE LOLLY FOR ALL I CARE!"

"What? Goodness, Harry... you really don't have to do this. There's nothing more for you to prove in front of all these people. We all know how immensely talented you are and—"

"Just go look for that Snitch, Granger."

"Surname, eh? This is serious indeed," Hermione zips off in search of her elusive target while the Quaffle is dropped between the two groups of Chasers.

"Potter... tick tock, your life's running down like a clock!" jeers Vaisey, although quieting as Madam Hooch looks his way.

"Be quiet, Vaisey, that dreadful excuse for a joke hardly makes sense." She then blows her whistle. "Play on!"

"Such bravery, such courage! Is there any other Slytherin sitting here with as much guts as Harry Potter?" asks Lee, "Look at him go! Getting knocked off his broom ten feet from the ground and then getting attacked? Not gonna stop this lad, just like You-Know-Who himself couldn't take him at the Ministry! There goes our boy as Ginny passes him the Quaffle. The group of Gryffindors now speeding down their right flank. They're forming the Hawkshead shape as Montague, Nott, and Vaisey barge in to try and get the Chosen One. Nope, Angelina muscles Nott aside while Ginny jostles Vaisey off-course. Harry rolls over and around his former teammate, Montague, as the Boy-Who-Lived pushes that Firebolt ahead. He's cutting in to the left as Zabini flies around the hoops. Harry with the shot— nope, Harry drops back and passes to Ginny who SCORES THROUGH THE CENTRE HOOP! Didn't see that trickery coming, huh, Zabini? NINETY-FIFTY TO OUR LIONS! And that puts us seventy points clear at the top overall."

"POTTER, YOU BELONG IN ST. MUNGO'S!" yells Malfoy, as bewildered as many of the crowd at Harry's insistence in carrying on.

"KISS MY ARSE, AND SUCK ON MY...HAHAHAHA!" Harry gestures a forearm jerk before standing on his broom and yelling to the air. "NYEEEEEEEEEAH! I—AM—THE—CHOSEN—OOOOOONE!" Then he takes to dancing around on his broom, which only serves to widen the gaped expressions sent his way.

"Um, what's going on  _upstairs_ , Harry?" asks Lee, "Seems like he's... having fun, I guess. Well, fair play to the lad after having survived an assassination attempt or something. Party hard, kid."

"Come dance with me, sexy!" yells Harry, beckoning over a gawking Ginny.

"Now I'm  _really_  worried about you, Harry Potter," says a wide-eyed Ginny. "Don't tell me it's you that needs saving this time? Dad said the Muggles named lots of mental disease or whatever they're called."

Midway through Slytherin's next attack, Harry and Nott find themselves on a collision course. They're now speeding towards each other, from their ends of the pitch, as Lee Jordan stands up while yelling:

"ARE YOU TWO MENTAL? THOSE FIREBOLTS ARE GOING AROUND 90 MILES PER HOUR; STOP THIS MADNESS!"

Both teams scream at each of their Chasers to stop, but Harry stares down the Quaffle-carrying Nott, neither player refusing to slow down nor give way for the other.

"...110 MILES, DON'T BE STUPID!" yells Lee, though Harry simply grins wickedly as a trembling Nott grows nearer by the split second. "HARRY..." Lee's voice drowns out for the speeding Harry, who leans even lower to accelerate while flying along the screaming Slytherin stands.

"COME ON,  _THEODORE_!" he shouts, before Angelina, Fred, and George suddenly swerve into the spot where the Chasers would collide; the trio now parked parallel to one another. All Harry can see are their yells and hand gestures as the wind roars against his face. As Nott pulls to halt his broom beyond the three Gryffindors, Harry risks a move he's only ever practiced in the safety of the Room of Requirement.

"NO—WAY—IN—HELL!" yells Lee Jordan.

The entire crowd gawks upon seeing Harry leap over the three Gryffindors, as his Firebolt flies unmanned right beneath them. He's slowed it down significantly upon leaping, and therefore grins while gliding along his momentum over the gaping trio. "I AM NOT A BIRD NOR A PLANE!" he yells most childishly, extending his arms to the side. If not for the Firebolt's Cushioning Charm, something very dear would have been hurt... Regardless, he lands atop the broom just as it meets him past Angelina, and the blast of wind against his face settles down.

"You belong in an institution—" Nott's words are interrupted as Harry swipes the Quaffle from him, before speeding off past the still shocked Slytherin crowd.

"Absolute... madness," says Lee Jordan, finally sitting down at his desk. "Madness that was, just... madness. Well, I've been told he's sustained no damage from our earlier drama, so he's not bewitched or anything..."

"WHAT WAS THAT?" asks Ginny to Harry, as they fly together while cutting diagonally left.

"I'm a super-wizard, Ginnybun! Now let's go score and have fun. Quick, rock—paper—scissors! Argh! Fine, you get to take the shot." He passes to Ginny who speeds ahead towards goal. That is, until Madam Hooch blows her whistle yet again while curling her index finger at Harry.

"I do not teach such  _insanity_  in my Flying Classes, Mr. Potter. That stunt, as breathtaking as it may be, could have resulted in severe injuries unless you risked a spell. Then you'd forfeit the match from using your wand."

"But I've already used my wand here, ma'am," says a smiling Harry.

"Exceptions can be made... but not for such intelligence-defying stunts as you've just done. Now then, fouls for the past few minutes... One against Slytherin for Nott flying with intent on collision; same for you, Potter. So that's one against Gryffindor too."

"Wait, is it one or is it two?"

Ginny grabs at her flaming red hair while groaning to the air. "She meant  _too_  like... 'as well', not the number two. What is wrong with you after that attack, Harry? Lost your mind?"

Madam Hooch rolls her hawk-like eyes before grabbing the Quaffle and turning around to set up the penalties. This leaves Harry to be surrounded by the twins and Angelina.

"THAT WAS SO... STUPID!" says Angelina.

"She means 'brilliant'," says a grinning Fred.

"Brilliantly wicked!" adds George.

"I'd like my Chaser to actually still be alive once we win this game," says Angelina, shaking her head at the smug Harry. "Who were you trying to impress with that maniac stunt? Parkinson? Hermione? Fleur?" She looks at Ginny. "Her?"

"Surely you're not that insane?" asks a scowling Ginny. "I'm not gonna be the one to clean your mess up if you miss such a stunt again. You're so...  _childish._ "

Harry laughs at Ginny. "You say that like it's a bad thing—"

"TAKE THE PENALTIES, PLEASE," orders Madam Hooch. Minutes later, Ron saves Montague's effort before Angelina scores past Zabini.

"Our Captain makes it 100-50 in favour of Gryffindor so far, putting us eighty points ahead on the overall standings," says Lee Jordan. "HEY, UP IN THE SKIES, LOOK!"

All eyes dart up to see Draco Malfoy swooping down in pursuit of the Golden Snitch, while Hermione flies barely a metre behind him. Both Captains hurriedly adjust their tactics as Nott sends his Beaters against Hermione, and Angelina opts to have the twins shield their Seeker.

"STOP THAT  _MUDBLOOD_  AT ALL COSTS!" yells Nott, uncaring for the penalty incurred by such blatant discrimination. His confidence in Zabini now greater than before as the latter eventually saves Ginny's penalty shot. Meanwhile, just over a quarter of the jeering Slytherins boo Team Gryffindor, and especially voice their animosity towards Hermione.

_"GRYFFINDOR SUCKS! GRANGER SUCKS! POTTER THE TRAITOR!"_

"Battle for the Snitch, here we go! It's Malfoy in the lead thus far, but with Hermione doing very well for her first match. Put those calculations to good use, girl, and cut those corners when possible. Crabbe and Goyle whacking those Bludgers towards our Seeker... deflected by Fred and George towards the Slytherin Chasers defending the outskirts of their scoring zone. Speaking of which... in comes Angelina with the Quaffle as she rounds Vaisey, gets past Zabini... GOAL THROUGH THE CENTRE HOOP FROM OUR CAPTAIN! Such graceful moves in the air as Angelina makes it 110-50 to Gryffindor, and we're now ninety points clear at the top!"

Even with Harry's attention partially on Hermione, nearing the left corner of the pitch, he now leads Gryffindor's next attack. It's three-on-three as the Chasers jostle for the Quaffle, and Harry shoulders Nott aside before rolling to fly upside down for a few metres.

"What a Sloth Grip Roll technique by Harry Potter as Montague tries to swipe the Quaffle! There goes the Boy-Who-Lived, flying upside down, as he makes his way straight through the centre..."

With Quaffle in hand, Harry swoops down to fly a few feet from the grass as Vaisey gives chase. They turn right...left...right... as Harry continues to slalom and zigzag until Crabbe, flying nearby, decides upon whacking a Bludger up close. The ball of iron seems just over a metre away before Harry instinctively turns and climbs a steep diagonal to the right, leaving Vaisey to unintentionally collide with the incoming Bludger.

"Such skilful reactions there as Harry tricks Vaisey into getting a Bludger to the shoulder; stick it to those Snakes! He's flying upward now... nearing the left, and lowest, hoop. Zabini coming in to block, nope, tricked by a magnificent few rolls to the right. Harry shoots... and SCORES LIKE A PRO! 120-50 IN FAVOUR OF GRYFFINDOR. Seventy ahead in this match, and one-hundred clear at the top as it's 610 Gryffindor, 510 Slytherin!"

"OI!" shouts Harry to Angelina, while Zabini gathers the Quaffle. "Do you reckon we can up Gryffindor's chances for the House Cup too here?"

The Captain pauses for a quick time-out as the Gryffindor team lands near their stands. "Now that I'm really not so sure about; should've done my calculations prior to this match, I guess. Lemme see... Umbridge's damned squad basically brought Gryffindor's hourglass right down to around... anybody remember where we were at?"

The team (except Hermione who's busy battling against Malfoy near the Gryffindor hoops) swiftly tries recalling Gryffindor's hourglass history in recent months.

"Last I remember," says Ron, "We had less than 100 House points after that first final. I think the other Houses also got heavily penalised for rubbish reasons by some of the Squad. But we got the worst of it."

Ginny does a quick check to see Hermione still making life difficult in the air for Malfoy, and now speaks, "I think Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were both around 200 points by that whacky final where Madam Hooch flew off. It's a pain to remember because only the hourglass points were deducted by the Inquisitorial Squad, and not the Quidditch totals. And I sure as hell didn't care to check our score in recent times... why bother? Too many other things on my mind."

"They really screwed everything up, eh? It's usually so simple: we earn points from the staff, and our Quidditch scores are added to that," says Harry, whose relatively calm demeanour has Ginny glancing quizzically at him.

"And now? Why are you normal again so soon? Where's your childish MADNEEEESSSSS?"

"Enough jokes!" says Angelina, looking over her shoulder to see both Seekers more focused on jostling each other than pursuing the nearby Snitch. "Fact is, that stupid Squad never screwed their own House out of points. So, Slytherin are now on top with around... probably 600 points if you add their Quidditch and everyday points stuff. Everyone else is maybe over 200 to 300 while we Gryffindors are sitting around... Hey, wait a minute..." She seems to have realised something, and now grins. "Who got all those points from fighting at the Ministry by Professor Dumbledore?"

Not wasting any more precious time in this match, Harry immediately recalls the names of those who've battled the Death Eaters. "Me, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna...um, the twins here, Lavender and Ginny, yeah. We each got 50 points for our efforts..." He looks left to see Madam Hooch headed their way, and Nott's team stands ready to attack Hermione at a moment's notice. "Gryffindor made about 350 points at the Ministry, and Luna got Ravenclaw 50... then I've gotten Slytherin another 50."

"Oh yeah, thanks so much for that," says Ginny, punching Harry lightly on the left shoulder. "Do we even have a chance? 120 From this game so far plus 350 makes... 470? That, plus our 80-ish from before the Ministry makes it like 550 or something."

"Hey, it's not like there hasn't been other little points taken and given since last month," says Fred, "We are a House of seven years, you know. So perhaps put... 40 in there, yeah."

As Madam Hooch crosses the centre of the grass, George furrows his brows while in thought. "Could we honestly be somewhere around 600 House points now? Slytherin's definitely over 600... too much uncertainty here."

"I see no reason to continue this time-out any longer," says Madam Hooch, "Mount your brooms and carry on with the game."

One-by-one, the players of Team Gryffindor mount their brooms, and Angelina now speaks. "We've still got over a month to earn Gryffindor points, so don't screw up! Maybe we can actually win the House Cup too."

"Count me out of that plan, guys," says Harry, "Can't help you at all."

"Oh yes you can!" Ginny swings her leg over her Firebolt. "Screw up on a daily basis so Slytherin can lose points; come late to class, skive off class, whatever."

"No more of that," replies Harry, shaking his head while sitting atop his broom. "I'm not playing as dirty as those former Inquisitorial imbeciles... and that doesn't count Pansy, nope, she's the exception. Sorry, folks, but I'm a Slytherin with honour through and through." He grins as Angelina laughs to the air.

"I guess we can't expect anything more of our temporary traitor." The Gryffindor Captain inhales deeply before hyping up her players. "Alright, let's go and at least bring home that Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor! NOW, MOVE—YOUR—ARSES!"


	31. Points, Prizes, and Practice

Twelve players shoot off from the ground much like missiles, in Harry's opinion, as they seek to see this game through. Flying high with his Firebolt, Harry takes a few seconds to sweep his gaze over the packed stadium. Crowds of students and visitors watch on as the Quaffle is placed in the centre of the pitch. But Harry's eyes focus instead on Crabbe and Goyle being joined by Nott; the Captain now risking an easier Chaser attack for Gryffindor in the hopes of knocking their Seeker down.

"Looks like Captain Nott has decided upon leaving his two Chaser trolls to fend for themselves down the left flank. Angelina with the Quaffle again, passes to Ginny who rolls around Montague... ducks beneath Vaisey... too easy! Shot on goal coming from the left side... and it's saved by Zabini who actually manages to hang on to the Quaffle. Okay now that is just pathetic: near the grass at the bottom right corner of the pitch, our Seeker's surrounded by three Slytherins. They're trying to shove her off-course as Malfoy ducks Fred's Bludger to carry on down the right flank. The Golden Snitch now travelling fast and extremely low! Oh come off it, you three losers!"

Lee's sighs are joined by a wave of boos coming from the Gryffindor supporters towards Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott; all three jostling while trying to force Hermione past the boundary line, and against the surrounding barrier.

"Oh, two can play at that game, Nott," mutters Harry, forgoing his efforts with the Quaffle. He leans low atop his Firebolt to rush out from the pitch's centre; his eyes focused while meeting Malfoy halfway down the right flank. "SURPRISE, WANKER!"

"Sod off, Potter! What do you think you're doing?"

"Nott thinks he can cheat Hermione out of getting the Snitch? Let's see you get past me, Malfoy. And this ain't like the good ol' times that we used to practice together. COME ON!" Harry elbows Malfoy as the two Slytherins fly metres from the Snitch.

"WHOOA! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY SLYTHERIN WITH A PLAN, NOTT!" yells an ecstatic Lee Jordan, dropping all attempts at being impartial in his empty commentary box. "You shouldn't have gone after Harry's Seeker, because now the Chosen One's gonna wreck yours! And need I remind you that Harry's main position _is_ Seeker, and not a kick arse Chaser, as he nearly took down even Viktor Krum last year. SHOW THEM ALL WHO'S THE GREATEST SEEKER IN THIS SCHOOL, HARRY! But, uh, just don't touch that Snitch, alright? Otherwise, that'll be a Snitchnip for today."

"Get out of my rightful moment, Scarhead! Don't you dare stand between me and putting a Mudblood in its place," warns Malfoy, as the pair streak down the right flank before climbing behind the Snitch's path.

"Don't you dare stand between me and putting a Pureblood bitch in its place," sneers Harry, flying upwards against the rush of wind as he overtakes Malfoy to chase after the Snitch.

"Your parents were meddlesome fools too, Potter, and look at them now!"

"Your daddy was a meddlesome fool too, Malfoy, and look at him now. Surely his comrades aren't too pleased at their Ministry-mission-commander having failed his assignment?" Harry turns upside down in a Sloth Grip Roll while following the Snitch as it performs a huge vertical loop, like a rollercoaster. This positions Harry to look up (which is actually downward) at Malfoy as the latter tries to spin his Firebolt 180 degrees. "I wonder how he's doing in prison?"

"SHUT UP!" Malfoy streaks forward to intercept the descending Harry, who now follows the Snitch's steep dive. "How dare you throw my father in prison... How dare you disgrace my family!"

"How dare your daddy work for Voldemort... HOW DARE HE TRY TO HARM ME AND TAKE THE PROPHECY!" Harry speeds straight down as the Snitch makes a beeline for the ground. Seeing the swiftly increasing field of grass ahead, he ignores the combination of turbulent wind and a booming crowd while diving lower by the split second. Then, to Harry's surprise, Crabbe comes blitzing inches from the ground as the Beater attempts to intercept Harry at a perpendicular angle. "COME ON, YOU USELESS PORKCHOP! NOBODY SCREWS WITH THE CHOSEN ONE."

"You not stopping us from winning, Potter!" shouts Crabbe, rushing to get at Harry as they're about to collide. "You weakling was better off out of school and by the Muggles."

Instead of crashing into Crabbe as they approach in an L shape, Harry shouts. "HAVE A TASTE OF MY COUSIN'S FAVOURITE OVERSEAS TV PROGRAM. WHOOOOOOOOO, FOR BIG D!" He then leaps forward, straight down, off his broom to catch the shocked Crabbe in a wrestling spear move. Both Slytherins crashing to the ground amidst screams and cheers coming from across the stadium.

"MERLIN'S TORN, SOAKED, BROWN, YELLOW, SECONDHAND UNDERPANTS!" screams Lee Jordan while jumping up from his seat. "I think... lemme replay... HARRY POTTER'S JUST JUMPED OFF HIS BROOM IN THE DIVE, TEN FEET FROM THE GROUND, TO TACKLE VINCENT CRABBE ONTO THE FIELD!"

Laying on his back just over a metre from the face-up Crabbe, Harry bends his hips. "Call me weak, yeah? Bet you can't do this, big boy." Then he gets to his feet via a kip-up manoeuvre. "Come on!" Now he gestures for Crabbe to stand up, and stomps his foot on the ground.

"This lad has gone absolutely _mental_ today," says Lee Jordan. "What in hell is Harry doing?"

"That's it... just a bit more," mutters Harry under his breath, as Crabbe rolls onto his side to while trying to get up.

"Potter! That'll be a penalty against Gryffindor for such vile behaviour," says Madam Hooch, "Get on your broom and fly off before this escalates even further!"

The twins now land to get between Harry and a livid Crabbe trying to get at him.

"Potter, you dirty cheater Half-Blood—"

"Penalty against Slytherin for blatant discrimination, Crabbe," says Fred, to which Madam Hooch agrees.

"Calm the hell down, _Vincent_. You were playing just as dirty with our Granger earlier," adds George. "She could've gotten seriously hurt!"

Harry would add his say, but suddenly finds everything jerking up and down as someone grabs to shake him vigorously from behind. "Who... what... whoever you are, stop this—"

"Not until I've shaken your screws upstairs back in place, Mister!" says Ginny from behind him. "Let's see this game out already."

Once Madam Hooch has taken off, Crabbe hurls a derogatory slur at Ginny. But before the youngest Weasley can respond, Fred points his bat at Crabbe. "You're about to get hit by one of my final few Bludger shots in this school."

"Double that up," says George, gesturing a forearm jerk at Crabbe as the latter speeds off on his Firebolt. "Nice tackle there, Chosen One!"

Harry spins around to jog past Ginny and head towards his broom. "Slot that penalty in, Little Miss Muffet."

"Why does he call me t— ugh, fine. Slot your screws back in place, Crazy One!"

Cutting across the centre of the pitch, Hermione and Malfoy jostle and elbow each other (while Hooch sets up the penalty) as they pursue the Snitch. Seconds later sees Nott closing in with Crabbe and Goyle before Harry swiftly intercepts.

"Half-Blood loser!" jeers Goyle, who's startled by a sudden Bludger smashing into Crabbe beside him. Meanwhile, Harry speeds off in pursuit of Nott as the Captain grabs hold of Hermione's broom.

"Let go, you swine spawn of a Death Eater!" yells Harry to Nott.

"Go say that to your pal."

Harry grins while picturing the lovely little Parkinson. _Nah, she's a sweet spawn of a Death Eater_. By now, they've reached the visitors' stands yet again, and Nott rams into Harry as Ginny scores past Zabini to make it 130-50.

"Go meet your adoring crowd, Pothead!" scoffs Nott, as he barges into Harry yet again.

"After you!" Harry counters his adversary by ducking under Nott then thrusting his leg out. By some luck, the force of the kick proves just enough to send Nott crashing down behind the railing of the stands.

"WICKED!" yells Lee Jordan, as Harry stops to hover at the scene of his attack.

"Don't screw with me!" Harry hardly pays attention to the dozens of witches and wizards trying to get a better view of him.

Nott gets to his feet beside his hovering broom, then he stands with his back facing the gasping crowd. "You _Mudblood lover;_ overcompensating for dear dead mum? I'm taking you down, Potter!"

"Yeah, like Voldemort tried 'taking me down' at the Ministry?"

Professors Lupin and Tonks race to quell the scene of two Slytherins reaching for their wands. "You cast, then you forfeit," warns Lupin. "Harry, don't let his taunts get to you. Just finish this match and make James proud!"

"Oh I sure will," says Harry, mounting his broom and giving a mocking wave at Nott. "Only the greatest Slytherin of all time will win this match, and it sure as hell ain't you, swine."

"Could we be nearing the end of this magnificent match?" asks Lee Jordan. "Hermione's on the chase, no, barged against by Malfoy! Goyle's got that Bludger going... deflected by George, and now it's Montague and Vaisey coming in with the Quaffle still in hand. What cheap tactics as they flee from the Gryffindors while trying to get at our genius Granger! The Snitch is diving at a gradual angle now, perfect opportunity to try and get it. Malfoy's ahead... and now Potter's come in to ease the pressure on his love as Hermione gets room to speed ahead."

Harry jostles against Vaisey while screaming at Hermione ahead of him. "LEAN FORWARD AND GO FOR THAT SNITCH."

"You'll never get it, Mudblood; you'll never beat me at this noble game!" says Malfoy, reaching to get his fingertips inches from the Snitch. Now, Harry swipes the Quaffle from Montague before swiftly pulling up from the Chasers' steep dive.

"Come and get it, Vaisey, and my former ungrateful piece of rubbish 'teammate'."

_THUD!_

"NOW THAT'S AWESOME," shouts Lee, "Harry Potter, playing in Chaser today, has just done something like a Wronski Feint Seeker technique against Montague and Vaisey! The brutes are down, and now Hermione's flying ahead as the Snitch moves near the left flank's boundary line. It's travelling parallel to the ground as Malfoy takes the lead... rammed aside by Hermione! Whoooooa girl, you show 'em."

Pushing forward on his Firebolt, with turbulent winds blasting against his face, Harry flies right up to behind Malfoy and Hermione.

"I hate you, Mudblood Granger. The Basilisk should have finished you off!"

"And Buckbeak should have finished you off. You foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach!"

Malfoy reaches out, and so does Hermione as well. Their hands battling to inch closer and closer to the Snitch. But then, one look has Harry seeing Fred and George positioned too far away as Crabbe or Goyle's Bludger soars towards Hermione.

"GIRL, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, NOW BEAT THAT BITCH TO THE SNITCH—ARGH!"

"HE TRULY IS BARKING MAD!" says a half-shocked, half-cheering Lee. "Harry Potter's just sped up and jumped forward, through the air and off his broom, to take that Bludger for his lover!"

Tumbling along the grass with a smashed right armguard, Harry soon picks himself up. The roar of applause coming from especially the Gryffindor and (most of) Slytherin stands makes it all worth it.

_"HARRY! HARRY! HE'S BLOODY CRAZY!"_

"Why do I always hurt myself in these finals?" he asks, rubbing his shoulder before mounting his broom and taking off. Even with a sharp pain radiating from his neck to his right fingertips, Harry manages to catch up to Malfoy. Now it's Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Vaisey... nearly the entire team comes in to thwart Hermione's efforts.

"THIS IS IT, FOLKS!" Lee Jordan bangs his palms on the desk, then he hurls his chair out the commentary box while going ballistic. "COME ON, YOU LIONS! GET—THAT—CUUUUUP!"

"WE'RE ALL INSANE!" yells Harry, "WOOOOOOOOO! SUCK ON IT, YOU SLYTHERIN BASTARDS!" He cuts in ahead of Malfoy to follow every spiral, turn, climb, and dive of the Snitch. Then a swarm of green surrounds Harry as numerous Slytherin players shove him aside for Malfoy to push forward.

"Get it, Draco, we'll keep this Half-Blood filth out the way. Purebloods forever!" yells Vaisey. "HAHAHAHA!"

"MALFOY'S GONNA GET IT, AND HARRY'S TOO FAR TO HELP... NOOOO—" Lee upends his table in frustration before having to crawl around the ground in search of his megaphone.

"You can't stop us, Potter, this is a Pureblood's moment now," sneers Montague, as Malfoy kicks Hermione aside to reach out for the Snitch. "Watch and learn how a Pureblood takes care of things; Purebloods get things done!"

"Quidditch ain't for Mudbloods, Granger, nor Half-Blood rejects like Potter. YOUR KIND CANNOT HOPE TO WIN AGAINST US PUREBL—ARRRGH!" Malfoy now hangs from his broom following a most unexpected punch.

"IN YOUR FACE! I've been waiting a _long_ time for that, you piece of rubbish," says Ron, seconds before Hermione closes in on the Snitch. But now it's Zabini who flies at near full speed from his posts towards the horrified Hermione.

"SCARED, GRANGER?"

Angelina, Fred, George and Ginny, surround the group of Slytherins that are trapping Harry as a fierce scuffle breaks loose. In the midst of the punches and grapples, Harry slips out to fly beside Ron as the pair struggle to jostle Crabbe and Goyle aside.

"CATCH—" yells Ron.

"—THAT GOLDEN SNITCH!" adds Harry.

At this point, Lee Jordan seems to have salvaged his megaphone, and he now leans over the commentary box window to view the action. "It's all about the Snitch now, so it's all on our GRANGER girl. Come on! Ron...Harry... anyone! GO GO GO GOOOOOOOO!"

"NO MUDBLOOD IS CATCHING THIS SNITCH," shouts Malfoy, grabbing hold of Hermione's broom at its back end. Cheers, jeers, whistles, palms banging against the barricade... the crowd goes absolutely wild for what could be the dying minutes of this final.

"Oi, he's got hold of your girlfriend's broom," says Ron, flying beside a furious Harry.

"Son of a bitch that he is," Harry blitzes forward, across the field, with his sights set on hurting Malfoy, and aiding Hermione. Both Seekers now slowing down as they near the Slytherin stands at a perpendicular angle.

"POTTER STINKS!" yells Montague, loud enough to have the minority nearby follow up with these chants. But the jeers are short-lived as Harry shoulder-rams Montague at just under 70mph, hurling the latter off his broom and over the barricade.

"PENALTY TO SLYTHERIN FOR POTTER'S MISCONDUCT!" shouts Madam Hooch, before Ron and Vaisey hurriedly fall back into position.

"DON'T SCREW WITH ME, MONTAGUE," screams Harry, hovering metres from his flabbergasted Housemates. "All you piece of shits here that hate me... have at this!" He lifts his left leg, for no real reason, and gestures a middle finger from beneath it. Then he flies away to leave behind a fuming few sixth and seventh-years, though the rest of the crowd applaud his actions.

"The Golden Snitch is doing its lap past the Hufflepuff stands now, and both Seekers are still neck and neck just over 10 feet from it. Come on, come on... huh, what? Oh, penalty saved by Ron Weasley, that's how it's done! Still 130-50 here. The whole group is headed towards the Seekers yet again, and Madam Hooch can hardly believe such madness unfolding."

Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Vaisey, Montague, and Nott fly in their formation across the field to get at Hermione, as she's lagged behind over a metre from Malfoy.

"STOP HER... SEIZE GRANG—LOOK OUT!" Nott yells before two Bludgers narrowly miss him en route to smashing against Goyle and Zabini.

Vaisey swiftly barges into Harry as the latter's attention is focused on Hermione ahead. "Beat it, Muggle-lover!"

"Wha... You goddamn MOTHERFU—" Harry is kicked off his broom and over the barricade. Nothing but stripes of red and gold blur past him as he lands at the feet of the stunned crowd.

"Get up, Harry, you're still in this game."

"Thanks!" Harry finds himself hauled onto his feet by Cedric Diggory, who's pushed past the front row of Hufflepuffs. Seconds later, he speeds of on his green-striped Firebolt to catch up with Malfoy.

"Think you're paying tribute to your dead and decayed father by playing for Gryffindor like this, Potter? Overrated, show-off, arrogant swine that he must have been."

"How's your mum, Malfoy? Playing with her 'Slytherin tunnel' at night these days?"

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MOTHER LIKE THAT!"

"Don't talk about my father like that."

Both Slytherins reach across the gap between them to grab at each other's necks.

"Your parents are dusty bones, Scarhead; dead and gone!"

"While you're playing Quidditch, your dad's getting a broomstick up his arse behind bars."

Their lapse in concentration sends both players crashing over the staff stands' railing. Uncaring for who might still be up here, Malfoy rushes towards Harry. "HOW DID IT FEEL TO LIVE STARVED AND LOCKED UP IN A TINY CUPBOARD UNDER THE STAIRS, YOU MUGGLE-LOVING MONGREL?"

Harry grins wickedly as Malfoy nears... then he catches him with a fancy superkick to the chin. "I AM THE SHOWSTOPPER!"

"What...the...hell..." Malfoy rubs his jaw in confusion as Harry now stands over him.

"Firstly, my cupboard under the stairs was more like a little bedroom, so, joke's on you. Secondly, I was hardly ever locked in; everyone just assumes my life was worse than it actually was..." Now he scoffs. "Thirdly, I used to sneak out for _more_ food at times, so I was fed."

"Go and starve in hell, Potte—argh! PUT ME DOWN, YOU FILTHY HALF-BREED!"

Harry grins as Malfoy's grabbed up by Hagrid. "YEH'RE NOTHIN' BUT A NO GOOD, ROTTEN SON OF A—"

"Let him go; that boy's not thinking straight at all," says Tonks nearby, as she's joined by another person up in these nearly empty stands.

"Beat his arse, Hagrid!" cheers Sirius, before patting Harry on the shoulder. "Been watching the wrestling at the Dursleys, I see..."

"Dudley's absolutely nuts over that show, really," Harry walks towards his already hovering Firebolt, but Sirius now shakes his head.

"No need for that, look!" Sirius' excitement is shared by Lee Jordan, and the latter almost hangs out his commentary box with megaphone in hand.

"...Pureblood supremacy, my arse; I saw you having a Muggle duel with Harry Potter there, Malfoy. Hahahaha! Seems like Harry's caught the running Malfoy with some kind of flamboyant-looking kick. Such primitive, uncultured, hooligan savageness indeed... _brilliant_! And coming past the Ravenclaw stands we have Hermione so close to that Snitch..."

While Malfoy sprints to mount his broom and speed off, Harry looks over the barricade and smiles.

"...Crabbe and Goyle are both squeezing Hermione between them to buy time for Malfoy... Oh man, that's just SAVAGE. Hermione's just punched and kicked those Beaters aside... Muggle-style, yeeeeeeeeah girl! Malfoy's coming in hot and furious..."

Then it happens... one bushy-haired Seeker swiping the Snitch, metres from the Gryffindor stands. Her yell of joy completely outmatched by those nearby and across the stadium. Soon, Harry spots both the Slytherin minority and about a quarter of the visitors' stands groaning in disappointment.

"IT'S—GAME—OVER! 280-50 IN FAVOUR OF HOUSE GRYFFINDOR. THE QUIDDITCH CUP IS FINALLY OURS! WE'VE WON, WE'VE BLOODY WON, WE'VE FRIGGEN OWNED THAT...WOOHOOOOO!"

A glint of gold goes flying out the commentary box as Lee hurls out the megaphone whilst celebrating. Then it comes soaring right back up as he summons it. Banners of scarlet and gold, and of lions and swords flood the stands. Roars and thunderous applause join the boom of noise enveloping the entire stadium.

"Now this..." says Sirius, having to raise his voice over the ear-splitting noise, "...I NEVER THOUGHT I'D EVER SEE AGAIN. BACK IN '78, EVEN WITH VOLDEMORT VERY MUCH OUT THERE, WE WON THE CUP. PEOPLE JUST FORGOT ABOUT ALL THE MADNESS, AND THEY CELEBRATED! HEAD BOY JAMES WAS MAN OF THE MATCH IN THAT FINAL, AND HE LIFTED THE CUP."

"YEAH I KNOW," says Harry, "READ ALL ABOUT IT... ARE YOU CRYING?"

"DUST IN MY EYE, THAT'S ALL."

Harry laughs while grabbing his tearful godfather into a tight hug. Then he heads for his broom as Sirius hurries to resume his patrols around the stands. Both Tonks and Hagrid are now caught between cheers and needing to keep watch for anything suspicious.

"YEH DID IT, YEH ALL DID GRYFFINDOR PROUD! YEH'RE THE BEST WIZARD, HARRY!"

"OH, THE IRONY," adds Tonks, her hair turning a shade of red and gold... with one green stripe, "GO PARTY HARD, YOUNG POTTER!"

Harry flies across the pitch to be surrounded by robes of red. From high-fives to handshakes to hugs, he congratulates each of his teammates here today. Meanwhile, those in green yell out all manner of insults upon retreating back to their locker room.

"POTTER IS A SWINE PIG," yells Nott.

"SCREW THIS! WE DON'T NEED NO STUPID CUP," adds Montague.

"Hermione... you were _amazing_ ," says Harry, staring at a fascinated girl observing the Snitch in her hand.

"Don't sound so surprised, Harry; it's quite condescending."

"Ha! Look who's talking about 'condescending'," says Ron, "Bloody brilliant, though."

"Oh man, I knew this would happen," says Fred, pointing down at the mass of Gryffindor students running across the pitch. Most noticeable is Lee Jordan, being borne by the crowd for his commentary skills.

"Just one will do," replies George, "Yeah, one swamp right in the middle."

Through all her sobs and tears of joy, Angelina is unable to get Harry to join in on the celebrations, as he's swiftly changed his mind. "It wouldn't be right, guys. I'm a Slytherin to the core."

"Don't be silly," says Hermione, tugging him by the arm as they hover above the pitch. "This is definitely your victory as well!"

He opts to join the team in receiving the Quidditch Cup from Professor Dumbledore in the stands. The large, decorative piece silverware is then immediately passed Harry's way to lift. But soon, by sheer coincidence, he spots a familiar face right beside Professor McGonagall on the pitch.

"I think that guy over there, sobbing with your Head of House, really deserves to lift this Cup. Far more than me, though," says Harry, snatching the Cup and gliding towards a tearful Oliver Wood on the grass. "I believe this is yours to lift."

"THE CUP; THE QUIDDITCH CUP, FOR REAL! That was... absolutely one of the most spectacular matches I've ever seen," Oliver grasps the sides of the Cup, trembling in disbelief before looking around. Two years' worth of students may only know him by name, but they sure do join in on the cheers. "IT'S OURS AT LAST, AFTER YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS OF WAITIIING!" Oliver stands atop the crowd while lifting the Cup. Tears streaming uncontrollably down his, McGonagall's, and now Angelina's cheeks too.

"I'VE ALWAYS SAID WE'D DO IT SOMEDAY, AND I'VE ALWAYS KNOWN! UP GRYFFINDOOOOOR!" says Angelina.

"Did you see Granger's wicked punch and kick towards the end of the game, ma'am?" asks a few lower year Gryffindors, to which a sobbing McGonagall, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag, smiles.

"I do not know what you are talking about."

Elsewhere...

" _BITCHES_!" says a familiar voice near the entrance to the Slytherin tunnel, and it's one that has Harry's definitely heard before. "THAT'S WHAT YOU LOT ARE... ESPECIALLY YOU TWO: MALFOY AND MONTAGUE."

"Excuse me," says Harry to the rest of Team Gryffindor, as he flies over the boisterous crowd to land on the far outskirts near the Slytherin tunnel. A smirk forms across Harry's face upon seeing the current Team Slytherin blocked from entering their own tunnel. Now, it's Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Vaisey, Montague, Malfoy and Nott reaching to draw their wands against the line of Slytherins standing before them.

"You're all a bunch of good-for-nothing, hating, Inquisitorial-arse-licking, pathetic excuses and representatives of this House's team!" says a casually-dressed Marcus Flint, standing between Lucian Bole, Peregrine Derrick, and a few others with their wands drawn. Marcus now gestures towards Yasmin Shafiq, Miles Bletchley, Adrian Pucey, and Cassius Warrington before glaring at Nott. "How can you call yourself _Captain_ and then refuse to field these players? ARE YOU REALLY SUCH A GODDAMN TWAT?"

"Whoa, Marcus," gasps an amused Bole. "Yeah, lay it on this waste of a team."

"You went and crossed the line with buying all Firebolts," says a rather formally dressed Derrick, "Nimbus '01s were great... but Firebolts showed that you were just _completely_ reliant on your brooms."

"Oh shut up," quips Nott, "I don't need 'advice' from the former, and soon-to-be gone old people." He then points towards Harry above. "It's only because of that traitorous, son of a Mudblood that we lost the Cup."

Montague nods in agreement. "Yeah, Flint, we actually had won this Cup with only a few hurdles along the way. So take your screaming, and piss off back to Puddlemere United's reserve team!"

"You had your final match revoked and rescheduled, dumb bastard," says Bletchley. "And all because you thought you were clever. What made you think deducting points to distract Gryffindor was a good idea, huh? Didn't you realise that Madam Hooch wouldn't let something like _that_ slide?"

"Potter is the one who went and ran off to the enemy, and all to impress his MUDBLOOD girlfriend!" says Malfoy.

"You'd better shut up before I go all Muggle showstopper on you again," says Harry, looking down from his Firebolt, and uncaring for the confused reactions to his threat. "Great to see you again, true Captain... sorry about breaking our streak."

"These gits had it coming!" Marcus gestures a thumbs up to Harry before shaking his head at Nott. "You still don't get it, do you? We"—He points towards his group—"never outright truly _hated_ our opponents. But you idiots went and tried to exploit every single advantage against the other Houses. Adrian, carry on explaining, since you're still in school with this 'team'."

"What Marcus is trying to get through your thick skulls is that you don't know what's really best. Yes, some of your fathers have been exposed and locked up... no wonder you hate Harry over there. But, as team Captain, it's your _responsibility_ to do what's best for your team. I don't think anyone can argue that Yasmin, Miles, Cassius, and I are better players than your group, Nott. Here we were throughout the year, three skilful Chasers and a veteran Keeper, but you went full-on nepotism."

"There's no issue in picking your friends, provided that they truly are the most beneficial players for your team," says Yasmin. "But _nooooo_ , you kicked us out because we supported Harry when few others would."

"And look at him now," says Cassius, pointing upwards at Harry, "Joke's on you, Nott, for not giving Harry the benefit of the doubt. You let your hatred and jealousy..."

"I am not jealous of _him_!"

"Shut the hell up and let Cassius finish," says Marcus, holding his wand rather threateningly.

"As I was saying, you let your hatred and jealousy blind you into seeking out your 'Pureblood, anti-Potter only' team. For what bloody purpose was that? Why do you hate him that much? Is it really because of Granger?"

"That's one amongst countless other reasons," sneers Malfoy, ignoring the face-palming gesture from Harry hovering nearby.

"I can't believe we came back here and saw our House's team fail so epically," says Bole. "You, Theodore Nott, should've put your pride in your pocket and built your team around its best player: Harry Potter. If you had taken your head out of your own arse and apologized, then Harry would've no doubt happily played alongside Yasmin and the rest. Then, Slytherin would've retained the Cup without anyone daring to argue against this rescheduled final."

"I'll never be on the same team as Potter," says Nott.

"You need to grow up, kid," retorts Marcus, "I brought Oliver Wood onto my team last year... and what happened? We won, plus he put in more good words for me with Puddlemere United. Now that's being like a Slytherin."

"Just leave them," sighs Yasmin, "It's like talking to a bunch of brick walls."

Flint's group struts away as Nott stomps down the tunnel with his peers. This leaves Harry to catch up with friendly faces, and former teammates, as the celebrations continue. Marcus, it seems, bares no enmity towards losing the Cup to Gryffindor. On the contrary, he takes his group through the crowd of Gryffindor supporters to congratulate their team, and his current teammate. "It's about damn time someone put that reject excuse of a Slytherin team in their place." Now, Marcus shakes hands with Angelina, the twins, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. "Since when could Granger even play?"

The rest of Team Gryffindor also joins their Head of House in passing around and lifting the Cup. These include Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and even Cormac McLaggen taking turns to run across the pitch with their Cup in hand. Then comes Lee Jordan, still clutching part of his megaphone, to chase after them in the hopes of touching the Cup once more. "I wanna hold it again; slow down!"

"It's time," says George, grinning as his twin hurries off towards the Gryffindor tunnel. With a semi-packed stadium watching the celebrations from above, Professor McGonagall seems far too preoccupied to spot the twins' grins. She hardly even sees Fred emerging with four crates levitating out onto the pitch behind him...

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Flashes soon light up the stadium, and above, as dozens of students flock towards the opened crates.

"Light 'em up; free samples for all!" says Fred, tossing and passing many a firework to be lit. "HERE IT COMES!"

Another bang, which is soon followed by shrieks and screams of delight. Students and their Head of House now step away from the sudden swamp spreading from the centre of the pitch. Flashes of white, orange, purple, gold, scarlet...and of all manner of colours remain above. These form spirals, Catherine wheels, lions and explosions which only fuels the nearly deafening noise coming from the crowd.

"I CAN'T HEAR WHAT YOU'RE SAYING," says Harry, upon seeing Hermione talking most animatedly.

"I SAID: AND YOU WANTED TO SKULK AWAY FROM ALL THIS? THERE'S NO ESCAPE FOR YOU."

Sighing and smiling, Harry lights and hurls fireworks all over the stadium. Voldemort and the Ministry aside, Death Eater activity aside, Harry follows the crowd in simply living the moment. Then he sees most of the crowd leaving the stadium before it's time for clean-up duty.

"No worries, mate, we know just how to clear up our own stuff. But, uh, try not to give away our secrets, alright?" asks George. Over half an hour later, they return to the Gryffindor locker room where Fleur and the five Slytherin girls await.

"Harry, did you see them? We spoke to Marcus Flint and the others!" says Tracey. "He looks real serious and all professional player these days."

"Oi, no Slytherins allowed in our locker room," says Ron, still giddy with excitement after today's victory.

"Blah blah blah!" says Daphne, "We'll invade your locker room whether you like it or not. OUR SLYTHERIN PLAYED A BIG PART IN GETTING YOU THE CUP, SO THERE!" She sticks out her tongue while blowing a raspberry.

"Come here, you backstabbing winner!" says Pansy, as she rams Harry against a locker with her hug.

Fleur comes next as she squeezes him in a hug from behind. "Such a naughty boy to 'ave stolen ze Cup from 'is own 'Ouse! You 'ad better make it up to your always angry-looking Potions man, 'Arry."

"Can't breathe... let go, girls."

"Move and make space, please," says Hermione, rushing to seize the gap between Pansy and Fleur as Harry's squeezed between the trio.

"So, Granger girl, can you do a good enough colour changing spell to fix 'is robes?" asks Fleur, as the group finally releases Harry (who's then pulled into a hug by Daphne, Tracey, Sally-Anne, and Millicent piling up around him).

"Of course I can, now watch this..." Hermione takes aim and soon changes Harry's black robes to its usual Slytherin scheme.

"Zat was very good for a fifth-year 'Ogwarts student," says Fleur, nodding her head. "'Arry, you cannot be beaten by zis girl; you must improve."

"Party in the common room now," says Angelina, leading the Gryffindors (except Hermione) out the locker room. "No snooping around and scratching in our lockers, you Slytherins. Hermione, keep watch on those Snakes, hahahaha!"

"I still can't believe all the mad crap you've done up there today, Harry," says Millicent, "What in hell went on in your head? How... _why_ did you jump off your broom like that?"

"It's because we all know that he's CRAZY!" says Sally-Anne, "Five years in and this boy still gives us the frights with his madness. He bloody tackled CRABBE of all people!."

"I'm not crazy—"

Pansy pulls on his hair before hugging him yet again. "YES YOU ARE; you're bloody crazy enough to carry on playing a sports game right after getting attacked, man. What the hell was that about?"

"They must have been Imperiused somehow by someone... People don't just get ambushed by bus conductors and a ice-cream men."

Daphne giggles, regardless of the seriousness here. "I'm sorry, but the way you say it is just hilarious. Sorry, didn't mean to laugh again, hahahaha! Were they throwing tickets and cones or spells at you?"

"Oh shut up," Harry walks away indignantly. "Wouldn't be funny if it was you being attacked, huh, kitty girl? Why don't you go and ask Stan what happened? Oh wait, I sent him bleeding to the Hospital Wing."

"Alright, okay, no more poking fun at Harry's misfortunes," says Hermione, "Which are plenty, anyway."

"I would love to stay but I must be off," says Fleur, gracefully heading for the doorway. "'Arry, do keep safe around 'ere. I can only watch one area at a time, you know."

"Pansy..."

"I don't know," she replies, while her expression towards Harry conveys nothing but honesty. "Mom's at home, and she's been very secretive lately. If anyone's Imperiused Shunpike and the ice-cream vendor, then it wouldn't have been her. Or maybe she went to Diagon Alley as people were leaving for Hogsmeade? I don't know! I don't want to know. I mean, was that conductor off-duty today or something?"

The locker room goes quiet as Harry looks at Pansy, both students feeling quite uncomfortable in the silence. "No sense in throwing blame around now. So long as you or the girls don't come at me all mind-controlled."

"Oh my gosh; don't say that, Harry," says Hermione, "Surely something like that could never happen right here in this school!"

"Right, girls, I think Hermione and I deserve to party it out for today," says Harry, "Pansy, please go and laugh at your loser team today."

"They're not our team," she retorts, "Never ever supported such dirty dirt bags! Did you know that Nott's father had the audacity to try and date my mom before that whole Ministry debacle?"

"Oh hell no!" gasps Harry, before going for a quick shower to change into his casual wear.

"I'm glad he's in jail then" replies Hermione, "Because you mum doesn't seem that evil."

"Don't talk about my mom, Granger."

"Oh, excuse me," scoffs Hermione, walking beside a haughty Pansy as the group of seven soon exit the stadium together. Once in the entrance hall, Pansy leads her girls into the Great Hall while Harry goes up to the Gryffindor common room beside Hermione. Even the Fat Lady's demeanour has now warmed up towards Harry, given that he's fairly responsible for the victory party happening here.

"What music is this?" asks Harry, upon hearing some wizarding band playing on the wireless. "Hermione, we should've brought your hi-fi system along..."

"THERE HE IS! OUR HELPFUL YOUNG SNAKE!" yells Angelina, rushing out to hug Harry yet again. "You really were incredible out there today."

_"I'M TNT!"_

"What's Harry trying to sing? I don't get," says Ron, while Hermione snorts and grins.

"Muggle stuff, Ron, and definitely not the kind of stuff your dad should get his hands on."

Uncaring for the dozens of students watching, Harry pulls Hermione into a passionate embrace as the silver Cup is tossed up in celebration. With music blaring, snacks galore, and Gryffindors colours all over the common room floor, the party goes well through the afternoon. Dinner eventually arrives, and Dumbledore notes that Shunpike and Fortescue have been taken to the Ministry for questioning. All seriousness aside, Harry returns to spend yet another night in Gryffindor Tower.

His euphoria of snatching victory from the hostile Slytherins lasts well into the following week. As expected, it's the usual rotten bunch that glare and openly insult him in the corridors. Meanwhile, the rest of his House deems the ironic defeat more fitting (and hilarious) than anything else.

"Next time, don't cheat your way to a cheap arse victory," Yasmin can be heard jeering towards Montague, on their way to N.E.W.T. level Charms class on Monday afternoon.

"Shut up, you damn Head Girl slu—"

"Say that word and I'll hex you," warns Adrian Pucey, "Not like your Shield Charm is any good."

"Yeah, you got what was coming to you, Montague. Bloody ungrateful turncoat Quidditch arsehole," says Cassius Warrington. In addition, a few seventh-year Hufflepuffs taking the class also step forward, including Cedric Diggory.

"Sorry, Yasmin, but I'm taking 3 points off Montague for his aggressive behaviour," says Cedric, finding himself on the receiving end of more seventh-year Slytherin hostilities coming from Hayden Rowle.

"Head Boy, my foot! I should've been Head Boy."

"No thanks," says a seventh-year Ravenclaw girl, "Better Cedric than you."

Angelina, Fred, and George immediately defend the Head Students, and soon it's a group from all four Houses standing against the hostile bunch of Montague, Fawley, Rowle, and a few other Slytherins.

"Let's, uh, leave the seventh-years alone," whispers Harry, leading his girls away from the heated row on the second floor.

"Excuse me," Professor Flitwick can be heard saying to the group, even as Harry's already down the corridor. "I would strongly suggest focusing on your upcoming N.E.W.T. exams over such petty arguments!"

"It never stops, does it?" asks Millicent, as the group of six fifth-year Slytherins ascend to the third floor. Here, they spot a few sixth-years arguing en route to their elective classes.

"Yeah, whatever, we still won the Cup," boasts McLaggen, walking beside Cho Chang and a mix of students. Meanwhile, Vaisey and a few other sixth-year Slytherins repeatedly mock McLaggen.

"You don't even make the team anymore."

"So? We still play pickup games on the pitch, Vaisey. At least we never got beaten by our own player," says McLaggen.

"Ha! Did you forget about Oliver Wood last year, loser? And you even had _the_ Viktor Krum to help," says Vaisey, sniggering with his group as McLaggen responds:

"But we played better than your loser performance; not like we won and then lost the Cup in the same year. Besides, Wood was already graduated when he played against us. You folks got beat by a current possible teammate!"

"You tell him, McLaggen," says Cho.

Harry and the girls step into an adjacent corridor to avoid the oncoming group of sixth-years. Then, a few minutes later, the fifth-years finally reach Classroom 3C where Moody and Tonks await.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" asks Nott, seated at the back of the leftmost row of desks.

"He's preoccupied with other duties," says Tonks, smiling at the class of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, "Now then, let's get cracking!"

As everyone withdraws last week's notes on Curses and Counter-Curses, Harry breathes a sigh of relief. According to what Hermione's checked, the last full moon was exactly a week ago, around the 3rd of May, while the next would be at the start of June. Harry slyly grins upon knowing that Lupin deliberately took off today, in order to distance his absence from the full moon days.

Following today's half-theory and practical session on shielding oneself from Curses, Harry's called aside once the final student, Susan Bones, exits the room.

"Listen, Potter," says Moody, "There's no doubt you can't stay at Gryffindor tower forever."

"Yes, I pretty much figured that out by now, sir."

"Don't get cheeky with me, lad," Moody appears momentarily thoughtful. "Right nasty bunch dwelling in your common room, eh? Would be a shame if you got attacked there or if you were alone in the library."

"But I'm never alone—"

"People do funny things in times like these, especially when they know that You-Know-Who is still at large. Look, laddie, you're nearing the two most difficult years at Hogwarts. Last thing myself, Tonks, Dumbledore or anyone else would want is to end up stressing over you on a daily basis. That's why I reckon we ought to build even more on your Shield Charm skills."

"My _Protego_ is good enough already, sir. Even the Death Eaters had trouble breaking it while I kept my guard up," says Harry, before Tonks scoffs and stands beside Moody.

"Exactly; you've got a decent defence when you're _actively_ focusing on keeping up said defence. What about when you're knee-deep in studies in the library or common room? Any tosser could try a cheap little jinx, hex... or worse... on you. That's where _Protego Totalum_ comes into play."

" _Protego.._.what?"

"The 'Totalum' part suggests a longer duration, fairly more 'complete' spell usually. Well, that's putting it very, very simplistically. It takes a lot more skill than a simple Shield Charm to cast that version of it. Mad-Eye?"

Moody nods. "You've got the aptitude for it, Potter, and I should know! Let's meet up tomorrow night, and subsequent Tuesdays too, since you have... Charms last period, right?"

"Yes, sir, that makes sense. Flitwick, dinner, then this different Shield Charm lesson of ours. Could we learn something offensive as well? I'd rather teach any prats that mess with my studies a lesson."

"I wonder..." says Tonks, while looking at Moody, "Do you reckon Harry's got what it takes to learn two tricky defensive spells in about a month?"

"Might as well see," says Moody, before Harry speaks:

"I could look up the second spell before our session; that'd be useful, right?"

"Aren't you already pre-occupied with classes, assignments, and your exam studies?" asks Tonks. "Such a Ravenclaw brain sometimes, Harry."

"If the lad's got a thirst to learn then I say we help sate it," says Moody, "After all, you can never be over-defensive these days. And with You-Know-Who having been thwarted at the Ministry... Potter's probably target number one these days. Alright, lad, write these two spells down and go do your readings. _Protego Totalum_..."

"Got it, yes."

"... _Salvio Hexia."_

"Are there any other Shield Charm type spells, sir? _Protego, Protego Totalum,_ maybe a maximum one... _Protego.._. _Maxima_?"

"For God's sake, don't go trying to invent your own head's stuff, boy," says Moody, "That's how people get hurt! There's no such thing as a _Protego Maxima,_ nope. The next step-up after _Protego Totalum_ is _Protego Horribilis_."

"Sounds pretty horrible, sir," says a grinning Harry.

"Even I can only occasionally get that one right," says Tonks, "Charms maestros like Professor Flitwick— and Dumbledore, as with everything he does—, are the ones capable of putting up that powerful barrier. _Horribilis_ stays up longer than _Totalum;_ it resists even the best, and large amounts, of top-tier Curses thrown at it. Except for just one, of course..."

"Yes, of course, me and my _Protego Forehead_ that stood up to the one unblockable spell around," says Harry, "Thanks, though, I'll head straight for the library after dinner."

He soon heads for the Great Hall as the clock nears 5pm. Sitting with a noticeably thoughtful expression at the Slytherin table, Harry is soon looked at quite curiously by his friends.

"Exam stress, eh? I know that look," says Pansy.

"No, I'm more concerned over having to put up with constant little crap from here on out. I really don't have the time nor energy to be on guard for cheap, crappy little hexes and attacks coming my way. What if I'm alone in the library or common room or wherever? Keep a secret for a boy, would you?"

"Certainly," says Sally-Anne, seated opposite Harry. "Spill the beans, please."

"I'm gonna research and practice anti-bitch shields against anyone that tries to be an idiot around me. Jokes aside, that means more Shield Charm work."

Pansy grins after shoving a spoonful of mashed potato in her mouth. "Yeah, get stronger so we don't have to constantly babysit and watch your back."

Once his watch shows 6, Harry stands up for an evening of research. But, as he crosses the entrance hall en route towards the marble staircase, he spots Snape walking towards the dungeons' entrance. The Potions Master merely looks at Harry as the latter greets. Then, Ginny's voice comes from behind at the Great Hall.

"Are you sweating it, yet? There's only a less-than-100-point gap between our hourglasses now, Harry Potter. That House Cup is coming Gryffindor's way at last."

Suddenly, a shatter of glass is heard as Snape looks down at his feet, before speaking in his usual emotionless manner. "How distressing, I seemed to have lost my grip."

"No worries, Professor, I'll handle it... _Reparo_!" Harry mends the jar which now houses its dead insects once more. "Here you go."

"Ten points to Slytherin, Potter," says Snape, before heading towards the dungeons' entrance. One look right has Harry grinning at the downward trickling of emeralds.

"What!? That was the cheapest ten points I've _ever_ seen," says Ginny, to which Harry grins mischievously.

"Great minds think alike," says Harry, gesturing from himself to the door which Snape's already walked past. "Don't screw with a slithering snake."

"Oh, now it's on, Chosen One..."

"Alright, cheers, I'm off to do some studies, Little Red Riding Hood." Harry ruffles a scowling Ginny's hair before making his way to the library on the second floor.

It comes as little surprise to find Hermione surrounded by books in a far rear corner of the, rather labyrinthine, library. She hardly gives him anything beyond a wave while holding her Herbology textbook up high. As he can tell that she'd rather be left alone, Harry tiptoes past Hermione while in search of his own information. As he'd been told by Madam Pince, _Protego Horribilis_ is not listed in any of the books Harry's yet perused. Instead, he finds it within a rather complicated one called _The Dark Arts Outsmarted._

"Oh man, that's some complicated stuff right there," he mutters to himself, upon reading through the precise focus, concentration and knowledge required to encapsulate an area under this Charm. The larger the area, the more immensely challenging it becomes to set up an effective _Horribilis_. Taking things one step at a time, Harry opts to search through a book entitled: _Self Defensive Spellwork._ Here, he comes across _Protego Totalum_ which serves as an area of effect, lingering Shield Charm. While great for hunkering down on one spot, Harry immediately spots one flaw in the _Totalum_ version: a serious lack of duelling mobility. His readings only further back up such assumptions:

_"...weaker than a Protego Horribilis, but still useful in fortifying a specific area when the caster is preoccupied with other activities. Against minor Jinxes and Hexes, Totalum may deflect at times, while stronger Curses would usually be blocked (except for the Killing Curse). As always, the strength of this spell depends on its caster_. _Protego Totalum proves most effective and relatively easy to perform for areas ranging from personal space to tents and small dwellings. Salvio Hexia (pg. 47) may be added for additional fortification and synergy between Totalum and other defensive enchantments..."_

Over half an hour later, Harry turns to page forty-seven where _Salvio Hexia_ is described in fairly adequate detail.

_"...best used in conjunction with other location-based defensive enchantments, such as Protego Totalum (pg. 12), in order to provide an increased layer of protection. Salvio Hexia incorporates elements of a Shield Charm while a caster of sufficient skill may opt to layer this spell with Jinxes, Hexes and, potentially, some Curses. In doing so, one achieves not only protection and deflection of attacks (Hexia deflecting mainly Hexes), but also an offensive salvo of preset spells. Do note that Unforgivable Curses are unable to be safely layered into Salvio Hexia, and to do so would be at one's own risk. For detailed accounts of casters succumbing to backfired Unforgivables they've layered into this spell, turn to pg. 81..."_

"Well, look at you," whispers Hermione, standing beside Harry as the latter jots down information on _Protego Totalum_ and _Salvio Hexia_. "You could've just asked about that first one, you know. I've been trying it since last month. What's the purpose of studying location-based enchantments anyway, if I may ask?"

"To protect my arse from possible idiots and their idea of humour around this school. Mad-Eye said now that Voldemort's officially back, people are going to start getting 'braver' by the day. That, and you never know what might happen in the future; better safe and defensive than sorry."

"Well, how about I show you a bit about _Protego_ _Totalum_ , and you get started on going through that... _Salvio Hexia_ one. Deal?" asks Hermione.

"Deal," Harry smiles while shaking Hermione's hand. After spending around an hour in the library revising some Herbology theory, both students exit at just after 8:30pm. From here, they hurriedly make their way to the Room of Requirement where Harry summons Dobby to bring the Invisibility Cloak. "Now there's no stress about Filch catching us out of bed after curfew. Shall we get started?"

Hermione nods while smiling. "Once again, I'm the one teaching you, Mister Chosen One."


	32. Crunch Time

(A/N: I've just realised that the Charms Classroom is actually on the third, and not second, floor of Hogwarts. The 2E naming had previously confused me.)

_Tuesday, May 11th, 1996, 13h00._

Six Slytherins have arrived ahead of their class at Care of Magical Creatures. Even though lunch hour ends at half past one, the group nonetheless settles down near Hagrid's patch of garden. While Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, and Sally-Anne sit along a stretch of low cobblestone wall nearby (facing Hagrid's cabin), Pansy sits against a thick tree trunk.

"That's right, Mister Prophecy," she says, as Harry lays before her with his head on her lap. The rest of the group may be studying through their textbooks, but Pansy shifts her attention to Harry instead. Her fingers now lightly running along his scar.

"Hmph, so you're only using me for my fame, eh?" asks Harry, savouring the warmth of Pansy's touch.

"Fame and fortune, yes," she looks down at him while smiling. "I'll take my leave when you're old news and when your bank account is empty."

"Then you'll never be leaving me." Harry grins as Pansy strokes her fingers through his hair, while he looks up at her. "I know I keep saying this but... you're gorgeous, Pansy, and even more so with long hair."

She pulls Harry closer, letting him rest against her chest, and now wraps her arms around him. "No need to state the obvious every time."

Harry's voice comes soft and tender while he's hugged by Pansy. "You're like a fine wine."

"A lovely little expression, though coming from someone who rarely drinks at all," says Pansy.

"Okay then, you're like a fine broom... lovely to ride."

Pansy's cheeks redden as she smiles. "Anyway, I've noticed a lack of communication between you and Granger since Sunday. Is she going off on her usual solitary confinement of studies again?"

"Yep, but just watch her come back when she's free again, that's Hermione for you."

They sit in silence over the next few minutes until the rest of the class, and Hagrid, eventually arrive. Today's lesson then involves spotting a Knarl amongst hedgehogs, which may prove quite challenging for one who fails to revise. Fortunately, Harry feels confident in his studies thus far.

"Can anyone guess a way of findin' the Knarl?" asks Hagrid.

"Try feeding it," replies Harry, before Hagrid sets down a bowl of treats for the Knarl to eat. No sooner does it spot the food than it starts wrecking Hagrid's plants outside.

"Great answer, Harry! Five points ter Slytherin. They're very suspicious critters," says Hagrid, holding the Knarl in his hands, "Don' want anyone feedin' 'em or leaving food outside; they see it as a trap or summat."

Daphne whispers to her group of friends. "Paranoid just like Harry sometimes, and it kinda looks like him with those prickly ends too."

"Very funny," replies Harry, seeing Pansy sniggering at him from behind her hand.

"The back of your head does occasionally look like a hedgehog, though," she says, "Or a porcupine as well. Forever sticking up... just like something else sticks up—"

"That's enough information, thanks," says Daphne, looking at a smirking Pansy.

Once the clock hits three, it's Charms for the Slytherins and Herbology for the Gryffindors. But with their O.W.L. exams just under a month away, nobody has much time for fun and games. This is most prevalent with Hermione paying little attention to the many smiles directed her way since last Saturday.

Upon entering Classroom 2E, Harry sighs in exasperation. Looking up, he spots Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle seated exactly where Harry and the girls usually sit: at the centre of the topmost row. Uncaring for Flitwick's presence in the classroom, Harry stands with his wand in hand while looking up at the smug handful of boys. "Excuse me, but that has been our spot for a long time."

"Does anyone see Potter's name here? No? Then why's he complaining?" asks Malfoy to his sniggering group.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Still angry about the Ministry?" asks Harry, even as Flitwick walks from his desk towards the confrontation.

"You got lucky against our fathers, Potter," says Nott, "Now sit over there and out of our sight."

"Don't kid yourselves; your dads were incredibly pathetic, and I'm not talking about the fact that they're Death Eaters," says Harry.

"Gentlemen, can we all settle down?" asks Flitwick, standing beside Harry.

"Potter's delaying our lesson, sir," says Zabini, "We really do need these classes, especially with the O.W.L.s coming up."

Pansy gives a slight groan, as if wanting to tell Malfoy's group off. But Harry opts to remain civil around Flitwick instead, and he soon walks towards the front of the leftmost row of desks. Once seated, and away from the boys, Pansy whispers in Harry's ear.

"You're  _Harry Potter_ ; nobody should be trampling all over you like that. Go march right up to them and take back our seats... show them who's boss! "

Harry gives a slight smirk. "Why should I get all aggro like a mad animal? I've seen how people like Dumbledore work their ways. Let's see if I can't do a little manipulation here by being sweet, innocent Harry."

"You're so bad," whispers a giggling Pansy.

Today's lesson involves a marathon of Charms including those of locomotion, silencing, and colour changing. Flitwick shows little of his usual fun self as he continues to prepare Harry's class for their O.W.L. exams. This includes having Malfoy's group practice together while Harry stays with his girls. The clear divide causing Flitwick to approach Harry as the latter completes his set of spells.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Potter? I can understand if you're feeling enraged over Mr. Malfoy and the rest's actions. But they haven't truly broken any rules, and I therefore cannot resort to disciplinary measures."

Harry resists the urge to smile as he continues putting on his crestfallen expression of disappointment. "I'm okay, Professor, since I put up with it every single day. But there's no need to worry over me; I had fought against Lord Voldemort after all."

Flitwick smiles while nodding in approval. "I've been meaning to ask: just how did you improve throughout this year, prior to attending school? Your performance in the Triwizard Tournament last year was spectacular indeed, but it baffles the mind as to how you've so swiftly achieved non-verbal spellcasting."

"That's Harry for you," says Millicent, seated three seats from him, "You should know how quick of a learner he can be at times, Professor."

Flitwick's fascination towards Harry brings much ire to Malfoy's group, and they now attempt to request the Professor's assistance with their revision. But Harry, after seeing Malfoy raise his hand, immediately resorts to what he reckons might direct the Professor's attention entirely away from the boys.

"I seem to recall having been told my mother was quite good at Charms, sir?"

"Oh yes, and she was as diligent as they come," says Flitwick, standing before Harry's desk (and with his back to a scowling group of boys).

"Many people tend to see Charms as a softer option compared to, for example, Transfiguration or practical Defence Against the Dark Arts. But that's not true, Professor."

Flitwick appears indignant while again nodding his head. "It certainly is not! Charms are the bread and butter of being a wizard, Mr. Potter, and your mother understood that. She, like many other gifted students I've taught over the years, saw the value in putting in extra hours of study even for the most 'mundane' of spells. You know, I've even had a student once ask me why we bother to learn things like putting legs on teacups. Not surprising that they failed their Charms O.W.L."

Harry shakes his head. "Working an effective spell often requires an intricate understanding of magical theory, right?"

"Indeed," says Flitwick, growing increasingly impressed with this conversation (much to Malfoy's annoyance). "Take  _Tarantallegra_ , for instance. To effectively work that spell, one needs to have a target that actually has legs. It's no problem aiming it at us living, legged folk, but to Charm something else, perhaps a desk, requires adequate preparation. The best of duellists really have studied their Charms theory, you know?"

"Sure, anyone can throw a spell, but can they really  _understand_ it?" asks Harry, to which Flitwick smiles.

"Well, I suppose you've answered part of my earlier question about achieving non-verbal magic, Mr. Potter. Still, it is quite a feat for a fifth-year who's missed out on most of the year anyway."

"Professor!" calls Nott, finally gaining the attention of Flitwick. "We were wondering if we could have an early exit? It's quarter past four already, and we're done practicing today's set of Charms. Look, I can show you my teacup moving around again."

"Fine, you boys may take your leave," Flitwick watches them hurriedly pack their backs before standing up. "Do continue revising for your O.W.L.s, please. Charms is not to be taken lightly."

The boys murmur and nod while exiting the class, leaving Harry and the girls to stay for the final fifteen minutes of today's lesson.

"Well," says Flitwick, approaching the row of six Slytherins, "Anything I can do to assist in our last few minutes here today?"

Before Harry can discuss today's lesson, Pansy raises her hand to speak. "Harry's doing extra Shield Charm practice these days, sir. He's got a good  _Protego_  already, that we all know, but what about moving on? Harry, why don't you name those three additional spells you've been looking up."

Flitwick turns to eye Harry curiously as the latter speaks. "It's nothing extreme, Professor, just  _Protego Totalum_  and  _Salvio Hexia_."

"What about that other one you've writing down?" asks Daphne, seated on Harry's left. " _Protego..._  something about horrible—"

" _Protego Horribilis_?" asks Flitwick. " _Totalum_  would be an excellent spell and is certainly within your capabilities of learning now, Mr. Potter.  _Horribilis_  is, no offense, beyond a student's abilities, even yours. Are you looking to shield our entire school or something?"

"I just thought I'd look it up... for future reference, yes," says Harry, "Never know when something like that might come in handy."

"It would be best if you focused on working your way up, instead of going for the big spells straight away," says Flitwick. "And remember the pronunciation, Mr. Potter. The most effective way of saying it would be Pro-tay-goh Toh- _ta_ -lum. The emphasis on that 'ta' part plays a role in forming the  _Totalum_  aspect of this Shield Charm. Also,  _Protego_  encompasses a moving target such as one to a group of people.  _Protego Totalum_  is best suited for relatively unmoving areas up to a small dwelling, or a bit more. Then,  _Protego Horribilis_  requires far more effort, and is best suited to shielding bigger dwellings or areas, such as even Hogwarts itself. Consider  _Salvio Hexia_ to be a supplementary Charm capable of both fortifying existing enchantments, and storing a limited amount of spells, preferably hexes. "

Harry nods in understanding. "Before yesterday, I never thought there'd be that many Shield Charm variations around."

"One step at a time, Mr. Potter. Alright, looks like it's dinner time," says Flitwick, permitting Harry and the girls to leave. "Don't forget to keep up with your studies!"

Following dinner, Harry heads to Classroom 3C for an evening of  _Protego Totalum_  practice. The extra lesson is given much like Moody had done back in fourth year, with the exception of Harry requiring more effort to produce this Charm. He may have practiced with Hermione last night, but this evening proves far more exhaustive with Moody constantly hounding Harry to up his barriers. Just before eight o'clock, he returns to spend another night at Gryffindor Tower.

As the days pass by, the excitement over the Quidditch final gradually fizzles out for many students. May's transition to June sees the library growing packed by the day, and Madam Pince prowling its maze-like aisles with increased ferocity. But it's not all strictly exam preparation for some students, as Harry demonstrates by lowering every single emerald he can into Slytherin's hourglass.

With just one week to go until the 'biggest examination' of their academic lives thus far, Harry opts to spend one early Monday morning in the middle of the entrance hall. Rubbing his palms (and with an almost manic gleam in his eyes), he looks left, right, left, and right in the hopes of encountering a staff member. Finally, at 7:15am (after he's already had his breakfast), Harry all but runs up to a startled Hagrid coming in through the enormous front oak doors.

"Good morning, Hagrid, how are you, Hagrid? Nice weather, eh, Hagrid? Is there anything I can help you with before my classes start?"

"Mornin', Harry. I must say yeh're lookin' quite unsettled today! Don' tell me those exams are gettin' ter yer head? Calm those nerves, lad."

"No, no, no, I'm perfectly fine! So, is there anything I can—"

"Professor Hagrid!" says Ginny, hurriedly exiting the Great Hall to greet and stand before the gamekeeper. "How are you doing on this lovely first day of summer? Isn't the weather absolutely brilliant outside? No more chill and snow, oh no, now it's all sun and shine."

"Bugger off," warns Harry, "I was here first!"

"You snooze, you lose. I'm here now as well!"

Hagrid looks from the scowling Harry to a frowning Ginny standing beside him. "Wha' in blazes have yeh two been eatin' in there? Oh, I see... crafty little kids, aren' yeh? It's all jus' fun and games then. Alrigh', Harry, yeh can help me lug a few trunks of wood, maybe feed them Thestrals too. Ginny, me garden seems a bit unkempt this mornin', and Fang migh' appreciate a nice stroll through the perimeter of the forest, and across the lawns. The perimeter  _only_ , yeh hear?"

Both students nod most passionately before bolting out the front door, while Hagrid can't help but laugh. A warm summer's day shines upon Harry and Ginny as they sprint across the entrance courtyard.

"I'm gonna do a better job than you, Slytherin! Those points are as good as Gryffindor's."

"Oh no you won't; Salazar for the win!"

"Says the boy who used our relic to kill that man's big pet snake," scoffs Ginny, racing down the satin green lawns towards Hagrid's cabin. "Getting unfit there, Chosen One? What? Can't keep up with a girl?"

"I'm not the dummy that's sprinting herself before a day full of classes," says Harry, slowing down to a gentle jog throughout his descent. By the time he reaches the cabin, Ginny's already throwing out spells while tending to Hagrid's garden.

"I'd be more focused on my O.W.L.s, if I were you," says Ginny, "Or are you planning on learning the material during the exam?"

"Hey, you know what's funny? I never even had fourth-year exams. Shame for you... Oh, wait, let's not speak about that." Harry jogs around the hut where he levitates three thick trunks to be taken into the forest.

"Hey, don't go in too deep," says Ginny, causing Harry to grin at her as she blushes. "My gosh, I know what you're thinking..."

"I'll take my log as deep as I want, hehehehe." Harry walks more than a few metres before depositing the trio of trunks. An eerie breeze rustles the leaves of many a tree, causing Harry to hurriedly withdraw from the darkened forest. "It's forever creepy as hell in there—"

"BOO!"

"ARE YOU NUTS?" shouts Harry, while Ginny laughs against the tree where she'd just leapt out from. "Don't ever do that again! Now you're gonna see; watch me work like a busy bee."

Hagrid eventually arrives to find his garden neatened up, Fang sitting happily behind his cabin door, not a fallen trunk in sight, and an empty stack of food crates meant for the Thestrals.

"Ta-da!" says Ginny, gesturing to Fang and the garden.

"We're finished," adds Harry, gesturing to the clearing beside the cabin, and the emptied crates.

"I coulda done it all meself, but take 10 points each ter Gryffindor and Slytherin. Hopefully, the two of yeh will keep tha' energy goin' throughout the day."

"Sure, have a great day, Hagrid!" says Harry, greeting with Ginny as the pair make their way back up the slopes. "You're going down, silly."

"We'll see who's silly when the Great Hall is decked out in RED AND GOLD on the final day of term," says Ginny, ascending the slopes with her head held high.

"It'll be GREEN AND SILVER," retorts an equally confident Harry, "I'm lean, mean, and green."

"Well... I'm red and think you've got a big head."

"That depends on which one you're talking ab—OW!" Harry rubs his shoulder after getting punched as the pair enter the entrance hall.

"Two points from Gryffindor for physical assault, Miss Weasley."

Ginny gasps while looking left to face the door leading to the dungeons. "Professor Snape, I... didn't see you there, sir."

"One point from Gryffindor for inattentiveness then."

Before Ginny can respond, Harry spots a second-year, Irma Flint, tumbling down from mid-way up the marble staircase. "Ouch! A bit of help, please?"

"No worries, young one, I'm here to assist." Harry rushes to help the giggling girl to her feet, for which Snape awards five points. Then, Ginny's groan soon turns to a snigger as Professor McGonagall stands looking down from the balcony beside the marble staircase.

"Eight points from Slytherin for such blatant simulation, Mr. Potter and Miss Flint," she shakes her head at a stoic Snape standing below. "Severus, I expected better from Potter and yourself."

"Potter, get to class!"

"But I'm free now, sir. Okay, I'll go do some revision, sir." Harry rushes past McGonagall (who gives him the over-the-spectacles look) while Snape strides into the Great Hall.

With Harry's first class for today being Potions at 11, he now opts to revise some Herbology at 8.

"Oh... hello, Harry," says Neville Longbottom, studying in one greenhouse and unintentionally crushing Harry's hopes of being alone.

"Morning, Neville," greets Harry, standing near and grinning at a pot of Belladonna. Both boys peruse their textbooks as quietly as possible while going through various flora around the room. Nearly an hour later sees Neville taking his leave for History of Magic, at 9am. This leaves Harry to smile as he wanders around the greenhouse, until seeing a familiar face at the door.

"Uh, hello? You might be free but we're having class with the Hufflepuffs," says Ginny. "This is fourth-year territory now, old simulation man. So... bye-bye!"

The stares and awestruck looks never cease to entertain Harry as he makes his way through the crowd gathered outside the greenhouse. But Harry, being in the mischievous mood that he is today, hurries off to History of Magic. His arrival stirring the half-awake class out of their stupor as the Gryffindors look to the doorway.

"Is he for real?" asks Lavender Brown.

"Wow, now that's dedication indeed," says Parvati.

"I'd rather fly a broom than be in here," sighs Fay Dunbar.

"He's bloody mental to spend a free period listening to Binns," whispers Ron to a gawking Seamus. "Who cares about the History O.W.L.? I'm definitely falling asleep here today."

"Hopefully, me mum will understand when I fail this exam," replies Seamus.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," says Harry, looking ahead at the ghostly Binns at his desk.  _Does this guy even know who I am?_

"Yes, yes," says Binns, "Take your seat, Perkins."

Harry smiles before walking towards the middle of the rightmost row of desks. Here, he takes the seat nearest a beaming Hermione.

"Hello there, Studybug."

"Sit down and make yourself comfortable,  _Perkins_ ," says Hermione, "No sleeping, eating, whispering, ogling, talking, or putting your hand beneath your desk for a round of mas—"

"Okay! Point taken." Harry slides into his desk before withdrawing his History of Magic textbook and sitting upright. All attention is given to the Professor who carries on with his lecture. Names of seemingly random giants, giant conflicts, giant attacks, and wizard hunts of giants go through Harry's head as Binns carries on speaking. The classroom soon dims from top to bottom before Harry forces his eyes open. Now, it's those extra few seconds of 110% alertness after catching himself dozing off. But this swiftly fades as the desk grows nearer by the second. Somehow, a small pillow appears on Harry's desk, and he can't help but rest his cheek on it.  _Surely a few seconds of shut eye won't hurt, right?_

He remains focused on listening to Binns' lecture on more giants, and even more giants. Some having fought for dominance, others attacking wizarding areas, and a few making use of primitive war tactics. "In 1834, the giant known as..."

Harry wonders why he's seeing some unidentifiable girl standing at the edge of a rather bloodied Black Lake. Then, to his horror, her head turns to a vicious squid-looking monster that strangles and pulls her into the lake where she nearly drowns. Even worse are a few unidentifiable students clapping nearby as they walk away with smiles. But now, the girl climbs back out the lake, tries to smile, then gets trampled on by some enormous giant until she dies. Everyone cheers, and the scene gradually shifts to Classroom 4F.

"Harry! Did you come here to learn or sleep?" asks a loudly whispering Hermione, leaning out her desk while shaking Harry's shoulder. "You're lucky I placed a pillow onto your desk, you know! You're just laying there wasting your time while we're trying to prepare for our O.W.L—"

A flash of green, and Hermione goes flying before today's Professor speaks in a high, cold voice. "Anyone else wish to become history of magic?"

"VOLDEMORT!" yells a shocked Harry, drawing his wand. "What the hell's going on here?"

"Sit down, Perkins," replies the hooded, red-eyed Professor. "Sit down, Perkins. Sit down, Perkins. You hurt my diary, Perkins. Sit down, Perkins."

"Yeah, sit down, Perkins!" says a break dancing Ron, spinning on his head atop a desk to Harry's left.

"Perkins, you may sit down," says Dumbledore, doing push-ups at the back of the class.

"Sit down so we can learn," says Neville, walking around with his lengthy backside hanging to the ground. Then a slight tremor rocks the class, and the door flies open as Hagrid enters.

"Anyone wan' some cake? Yeh lot look really hungry, so... have some!" He tosses many of his homemade rock cakes around, hitting students against the head. Lavender takes one that sends her flying against the wall. "Sorry abou' tha'," says Hagrid casually, while nobody cares about the now dead Lavender. "Harry! Take her and feed them Thestrals."

"Hello, Harry. How are you, Harry? Nice weather, eh, Harry? Everything alright, Harry?" asks an orange fruit sitting on Harry's desk, while a yellow broomstick bounces around the class chanting:

"Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood!" Then it falls over and breaks from a breeze before screaming. "MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT THIS!"

"Class is dismissed," says the tall Professor, packing his bags and walking out with a snake following him. Once the classroom door opens, dozens upon dozens of owls flock in to start pecking everyone to their deaths...

Finally, a really vigorous shaking has Harry jerk his head up to reality from the pillow. Glancing around wildly, he checks to see Binns disappearing into the blackboard while the Gryffindors pack their bags.

"I cannot believe that you came here just to sleep!" says Hermione, standing with her hands on hips beside Harry's desk.

"Hermione, you're alive!" says Harry, "There was a talking broomstick that sounded like Malfoy, and an orange that kept asking me if I'm alright. Dumbledore was doing push-ups, and I think Voldemort was teaching the class—"

"Oh my God," says Hermione, rolling her eyes. "What exactly goes on inside that head of yours? You're such a child." She un-Transfigures the pillow into an old textbook before packing it away. "Come on, get up for break before it's time for Potions."

"Some girl got strangled by her own monster of a head as well—"

"Overactive imagination," says Hermione, yanking Harry out his desk. "It's okay, though; dreams are usually nonsensical anyway." But she remains looking at him in amusement as Harry packs his bag. "Professor Dumbledore doing push-ups... Really now, Harry?"

"Let's, uh, get to Potions," says a red-faced Harry, walking beside a giggling Hermione all the way to the dungeons.

"Shall I sit with you for today, imaginative child?" asks Hermione, as the pair are first to enter the class.

"Yeah, sure." Harry takes his seat at his usual workstation as Pansy and the rest soon enter.

"Well done on sinking to a new low, Parkinson," sneers Malfoy, as Pansy sits down beside Hermione.

"Excellent thinking, Harry," says Pansy, "Bringing the braniac herself to sit with us so close to the O.W.L.s. Make yourself useful today, Granger."

"Ugh, how can you invite Mudblood trash to your desk—" Nott's words are interrupted as Snape enters the room.

"Sit down and be silent, Nott."

"Yes, Professor," Nott complies as the lesson on O.W.L. revision gets underway. Over the next hour and a half, the class is made to revise their Calming Draught and Strengthening Solution theory once more. This is followed with having to brew and bottle a Calming Draught, to which Snape provides even more criticism than usual. Finally, he ends the lesson by distributing the O.W.L. timetable for the Slytherins seated around the room.

"Professor McGonagall will hand out Gryffindor's timetables tomorrow," says Snape to the class, after placing two parchments before Pansy. "At this point, though, it shouldn't make any difference when you receive them from your Head of House. The schedule is practically the same, and only differs according to your choice of electives. Any method of cheating is strictly prohibited, and punishment will be of the utmost severity. And no, I will not waste my time obliging the incessant demands for 'helpful potions' which I receive each and every year by ill-prepared dunderheads."

After lunch comes fifth-year Slytherin's shared History of Magic class with their Hufflepuff counterparts. This time, Harry tries his utmost best to remain attentive, as do Ernie Macmillan, Wayne Hopkins, and many other Hufflepuff students around.

"I wouldn't sleep if I were you, Malfoy," says Megan Jones, seated between Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot.

"Don't speak to us, Duffer. You're probably an  _ill-prepared dunderhead_..." retorts Malfoy, causing Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle to snort with laughter.

Looking to his right, Harry spots Justin Finch-Fletchley dozing off, causing the former to grin. "If you sleep, then I'm sending a snake to attack. Lockhart won't be here to save you this time."

"Very funny, Harry, but we both know that chap was absolutely useless."

The final lesson of today is once again a shared Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Gryffindor. This time, Professors Tonks and Moody opt to focus on a theoretical lesson. With a full moon scheduled for today, Professor Lupin is nowhere to be found. This, however, comes with little suspicion as he's already taken off sporadically throughout last month.

"If Lupin is too busy with other work, then why not let him go? It's already the start of June, anyway!" says Zabini.

"How about we let you go?" replies Seamus, " _Professor_  Lupin's obviously got a busy life."

"Enough arguing," says Tonks, pacing before the front row of desks. "Someone describe at least three methods of effectively fending off Grindylows."

As expected, Hermione's hand shoots up first before she gives a detailed account of textbook theory and Harry's reported experience.

"Excellent! Take ten points to House Gryffindor for that," says Tonks, causing Hermione to grin and look challengingly at Harry.

"I want three methods of defending against the Killing Curse," says Moody, regardless of Tonks' expression. "Who cares if that might not come in the exam?"

The slight pause for consideration by others gives Harry ample opportunity to raise his hand. "If you've got the skill, then quickly try some basic Transfiguration to get a physical obstacle in the way. Nothing too complicated, though, as those spells require time. Also, you might dodge if the opponent is at an acceptable distance and not too close. Taking cover in your environment also helps, as does listening carefully to your opponent. The Killing Curse nearly always requires a loud, verbal incantation to power it. So that gives you just a few split seconds to think."

"Were you all listening? Good, so that'll be fifteen points to Slytherin for an acceptable, doable answer, Potter," says Moody, while Harry flashes his brows and smirks at Hermione.

Much of the week involves hectic studying and panicking for the students as the exams creep closer by the day. Study groups are solidified even further as everyone battles to absorb whatever they can from their notes and textbooks. For some students, like Harry, a few extra classes are arranged (although Harry's lessons extend beyond the current curriculum.)

A thriving trade of black-market products soon spreads across the school, leaving many a Prefect to confiscate these supposedly 'helpful' items. From Brain Elixir to powdered Dragon Claw, Hermione drags Harry along in confiscating any suspicious substances.

"I swear," she says, patrolling the second floor corridor on Saturday afternoon. "You'd think the sixth and seventh years would show a bit more responsibility than trying to cash in on our examination fears. HALT!" She holds out her hand to stop a seventh-year Slytherin from selling the wizarding equivalent of a stimulant.

"Piss off, Mud—Prefect," says the fuming seventh-year, as a lower year Ravenclaw flees down the corridor. "I almost had that one convinced this'll up his marks. There's goes my easy 18 Galleons!"

"Five points from Slytherin!" says Hermione, uncaring for Harry's groan beside her. "Hand over whatever that is... right now," she draws her wand as the Slytherin boy stands cornered in the corridor.

 _Hmm_ , wonders Harry, before discreetly whispering and walking around Hermione.  _"Protego Totalum."_

"Get out of my face, traitor Pothead," warns the Slytherin, after Harry's walked between him and Hermione. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hand that black-market crap over right now," says Harry.

"She's the Prefect, not you," the Slytherin stands defiant with his parcel held against his chest. "And I don't take orders from anything less than a Pureblood."

"Ha! Well, good luck if you decide upon serving Voldemort one day, idiot."

"What did you say, Potter? Think you're smart-mouthing me?" The Slytherin immediately fires a non-verbal Jinx at Hermione, which deflects off Harry's barrier and knocks the attacker back.

"Thanks," says Hermione, "Although I could've handled it myself.  _Expelliarmus_!"

"GIVE ME BACK MY WAND AND... ARGH!" Another Disarming Charm hits the package, sending it flying through the air to be caught by Hermione.

 _Stupefy_! Harry non-verbally knocks out the seventh-year before bowing towards Hermione. "A pleasure serving you, oh high and mighty future Minister. Remember me when you get to the top."

"Alright, my personal guard dog, let's take our attacker to his Head of House." Hermione casts  _Mobilicorpus_  to levitate the unconscious Slytherin ahead of them all the way to the dungeons.

" _Weew weew_! Make way; police coming through," says Harry, grinning upon walking through astonished groups of students.

"Could you at least  _try_  and act like a fifteen year old? You're sixteen at the end of next month!" scolds Hermione, through clenched teeth as they knock on Professor Snape's office door. It opens in less than a second before the Potions Master stands looking from Harry to Hermione to their floating victim.

"Explain."

Harry lets Hermione do the talking, causing Snape to immediately revive the seventh-year. This is followed by handing over the student's wand and package (which is promptly destroyed by Snape) before the Potions Master lets loose with a harsh lecture on prohibited items.

"...N.E.W.T.s may be around the corner for you, but that does not grant immunity to detention. Tonight—without magic— you will assist Mr. Filch in cleaning up the damage caused by Peeves yet again on the third floor. In addition, I want 10 inches of essay on the common dangers of black-market substances on my desk by tomorrow morning. Now get out of my sight."

"Yes, sir," says the seventh-year, hurriedly taking his wand and fleeing towards the Slytherin common room.

"If you're looking for praise and adulation for assisting a Prefect, Potter, then go somewhere else. However, take fifteen points to Slytherin. Now get on with your studies." Snape shuts the door as Harry walks away with Hermione, who soon speaks:

"Would it kill him to award even just one point to Gryffindor? Oh well, at least you took some responsibility today. See? It's not that hard being mature and grown up."

"Come on, let's scout out the courtyard and path to the boathouse. I'm sure there might be some illicit trade going on there," says Harry, "How about a little cheating, Miss Perfect Prefect?" They slip into a hidden alcove where Harry uses the Marauder's Map to scout suspicious activity.

"There we go, Fred and George are surely dealing in their tricks and pranks near the boathouse," says Hermione. "Let's go get them!"

"Uh, wait, Hermione—"

Harry groans as he's forced to accompany his beloved Prefect all the way to the boathouse. Here, she smiles triumphantly while rounding a corner to spot the twins selling a Skiving Snackbox.

"Aha! Caught right in the act. Hand over that dastardly box right now, you two." She then glares at a terrified second-year Hufflepuff girl. "Leave before I deduct points."

"Y-Yes, Prefect Granger!" says the girl, before racing back towards the entrance courtyard above.

Fred and George, however, simply grin smugly. "You can't confiscate our goods, Hermione Granger."

"Really? And why's that? Because we're friends? Because I visit the Burrow? Or... because we fought together at the Ministry? That's irrelevant to maintaining proper discipline around here."

"Sounds like Umbridge," mutters Fred, to which George laughs and Hermione frowns.

"I am  _not_  that awful woman! Now hand over that snackbox before this turns ugly. I've got backup, you see, and he's ready to lay down the law, mm-hmm," says Hermione, tilting her head up much like Pansy often does.

"Oh please," says Fred, grinning at Harry, "We have a pretty good guess on how you found us. That's why you can't touch our merchandise, Hermione. An eye for an eye; we keep the snackbox, and the Map stays an unknown."

"You're bluffing," says Hermione, "Sirius would go nuts if you ever ruined that secret."

"Try me," replies Fred.

"Nice bulldog you got here, though," says George, gesturing towards Harry. "But I'm sure the Chosen One has better things to do than stab his friends in the back, right?"

"Let's pretend we never caught these two, Hermione. Besides, this is nothing compared to the toxic black-market crap going around elsewhere in the school."

"Ah, there we go!" Fred slaps Harry on the back. "See? We're only giving our fellow students more time to do some private revision by skiving out of class. Surely that's no worse than ingesting Baruffio's Brain Elixir or something?"

"It's the final Saturday before the exams... so there's no need for skiving. Fine, I'll turn a blind eye," says Hermione, "But if there are any explosions, swamps, stink bombs, etc. going off in the school..."

Fred shakes his head. "Do you still see Umbridge around? We're done with all that mayhem. These skiving products are gonna be kept by our loyal customers for September onwards."

George nods in agreement. "Yeah, no need to interrupt our customers' studying, and then lose business."

"You'd better focus on your own exams as well," warns Hermione, "Harry, let's go."

"Cheers!" says Fred, waving as Harry and Hermione turn to ascend the path towards the courtyard.

"Arrest those troublemakers out there!" adds George.

As they near the courtyard, Harry turns to look at Hermione. "Do you think they would've really snitched on my Map?"

"Don't be silly, Harry. They'd never do something like that. But it was fun to pester and annoy them out here."

"I don't think we have time for patrols anymore. Revision of revision, here we come!"

The rest of the day is spent in an empty classroom with piles of books around. From first to fifth-year, many textbooks are used between the study group of Harry, Hermione, and even the five Slytherin girls.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," says Tracey, sitting cross-legged beside Hermione. "Come on, aid us with those super brains, Granger."

"I can help, so long as I'm not busy with my extra electives."

"Yeah, we don't care about Runes or Arithmancy, or whatever," says Pansy.

"Hey, Tracey and I do Arithmancy as well!" says Sally-Anne, "When you're going through those Numerology charts we got back in February, spread 'em out and explain, would you?"

"Um, you sure you'd like Hermione to explain what is possibly her favourite subject around? She'll leave you in the dust and not care if you can't keep up."

"Shut up, Harry," says Tracey.

"We always thought you'd take something like Runes, Arithmancy, or even Muggle Studies," says Millicent to Harry. "You're fairly bright, you know? That's not to say we're dumb for also choosing just Divination and Care of Magical Creatures."

"Harry doesn't care for old runic symbols, or using complex numerical algorithms to predict an outcome," says Hermione, "Nor does he care to study something which he's basically grown up with. Both of us could easily average 200-300% on our Muggle Studies work. That's why I dropped that subject years ago."

"Hermione's the one with a greater affinity for numbers," says Harry, opening a book and spreading it between him and Pansy. "Besides, I'm not too into the whole prediction stuff. Arithmancy may be more scientific, but does it truly work all accurate and stuff?"

"Of course not," replies Hermione, "But the fun is in the numbers... and when minor things coincidentally come right. Sometimes, the simplest of predictions can be made, such as evaluating the basics of a person's character and behaviour. It's not always completely accurate, but why do you think I occasionally make such good guesses about you, Harry?"

"Because you're one of my best friends, duh, and know me very well by now."

"Fair point, but a bit of Arithmancy sometimes helps with things. Like that time I guessed that you didn't want anything Quidditch nor broom nor clothing-related for your birthday. That's where a bit of the numbers algorithms can assist. I'm perfectly aware that this subject isn't a fool-proof, perfect way of predicting and manipulating the future. Otherwise, Voldemort himself would've had far better luck against us."

"Oh crap, now you've actually got me thinking about something..." says Harry, shutting his book (much to Pansy's annoyance beside him).

"What the fu— Open it again!" groans Pansy, as Harry rubs his chin while looking across the study circle at a curious Hermione.

"Thinking about what?"

"You're not the only one with gifted brains, Hermione," says Harry, now snarling in contempt, "Crouch Jr.'s no slouch. Do you think he's been trying a bit of Arithmancy stuff too? Think about it: that whole Triwizard Tournament except, well..." Harry looks nervously at Pansy.

"Whatever, baby Potter, I'm past the weeping stage long ago," she says dismissively.

"What I'm trying to say is that I wonder if Crouch used some prediction and whatnot during his planning of events? Karkaroff did what was needed, and so did I."

"Open your ears and listen, Harry," says Hermione, "Arithmancy could not have done all that. Yes, it's scientifically given him a method of assessing your behaviour and likely course of action, but mainly in conjunction with other sources. He simply studied you well from the newspapers, word of mouth, etc. Don't blame this subject for the tragedy of the Tournament. Besides, the Ministry attack flopped fairly badly, didn't it?"

"Yeah, and I doubt Voldemort cares much for scientific attempts at prediction or anything," says Harry, "No offense to your beloved subject, Hermione. I'd rather not demotivate you."

"As if that would ever happen," scoffs Hermione. "But you're right in that Voldemort might not care for Numerology. What purpose would the magical scientific theory of things, such as the importance on numbers, have for him? I cannot think of anything."

"Well, I don't know anything about You-Know-Who," says Tracey, "But Numerological things like supposedly strong numbers and stuff are quite useful to know. Just don't get fixated upon them, because then you're the fool."

"Please," says Harry, "I'm not so addicted to Arithmancy stuff. Right, here's a prediction: the O.W.L.s are coming up hard and fast."

"How about this Numerology?" asks Pansy, stretching out and yawning. "The chances of baby Potter winning against the Dark Lord someday stands at one hundred percent!"

"Now don't go squashing him with so much pressure," says Millicent, tossing aside her History of Magic textbook to reach for her Transfiguration one instead. "Although, I'd much rather not think of the alternative..."

"Girls, can we please leave the big evil dude out of our O.W.L. studies?" asks Daphne. "Right now, I just want to get them over with. What happens next will happen next."

The group of seven soon power through their studies throughout their Saturday afternoon. Then comes Sunday, where they opt to meet outside at the Stone Circle with any other available fifth-years.

"Oh wow, looks like all the good fifth-years have banded together for some studying," says Harry, "So... we're just missing the stupid gits, right?"

"Harry!" laughs Hermione, looking at the sizable group of students standing with their Charms textbooks in hand. "Don't say it like that."

"It's the truth," he replies, "That is... unless we're missing some genuinely good folk, no?"

Looking around at the practicing fifth-years, he spots: Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner, Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle, Anthony Goldstein, Morag MacDougal, Su Li, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw. Then it's the Gryffindors, who Harry's already well familiar with, as well as the Slytherins (except for the other five fifth-year boys). Finally, Harry spots Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Wayne Hopkins, Zacharias Smith, Oliver Rivers, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Megan Jones, Sophie Roper, and Lily Moon of Hufflepuff.

"Yeeeeah, the whole family is here," says Harry, eagerly watching everyone stress over their Charms for tomorrow's exam. "Starters of '91, carry on with your studyi—"

"We're trying to flippen focus over here, Harry," says a groaning Moon, hurling a stone that flies over Harry's head.

"Oh, my apologies, Lily."

Then comes a hard spank to Harry's backside, causing him to spin around and see Pansy pressing a finger to her lip. "Shut the f— ahem, shut the hell up, please. Not all of us are gifted in Charms like you. Maybe you should pull down your trousers so I can practice a much-needed Enlargement Charm..."

Harry lowers his head and sighs.

"I'm just joking, man! Don't take everything so seriously," Pansy giggles and pats him on the back. "There's nothing wrong with the size of your dong."

"What the hell?" Harry can't help but burst into fits of laughter, sending more than a few annoyed looks his way. "Oh, oh... catching my breath here... sorry, people, sorry!"

All manner of Charms are discussed and practiced throughout Sunday morning, and Harry happily practices with anyone that's willing. Whether Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin, it matters little to him as Harry walks between various groups of students. Shortly before noon, he looks to his right and sees a young woman sitting on a distant rock.

"Looks like Fleur's been watching over us leetle fifth-year babies this morning," says Pansy, before waving at their older friend.

"A leetle 'elp goes a long way," says a smiling Harry, "Think I'll take her some chocolates in exchange for more Charms help later."

"What help? You're quite prepared enough already," says Pansy, "My late cousin would've made me better prepared, though... Whatever, I'm past the crying stage. Let's combine some Transfiguration with our Charms."

"Great idea!" says Harry, eliciting a smile from Pansy as they take aim at a few stones. "How about turning them to teacups, and then we Charm them to have legs and dance?"

Indeed they do, until it's time for a hasty lunch followed by an early afternoon of Transfiguration theory in the library. Following that, as tired as he is, Harry spots Fleur on the Map before making his way (with a slab of chocolate in hand) to the second floor corridor.

"Oh, you are so sweet!" Fleur kisses Harry on each of his cheeks, although declining the entire slab which he holds out. "No, you definitely need zis more zan I do. Your 'alf-dead expression reminds me of our equivalent of ze O.W.L. exams in my sixth year, 'Arry."

"How lucky to have six years prep, and you probably had a more normal school life than me."

Soft, warm hands cup his cheeks as Fleur gives a radiant smile while looking down at him. "Stop feeling so sad; an extraordinary boy gets an extraordinary life at 'is school. So, where shall we practice for your Charms exam?"

"I know exactly where's that empty classro—"

"But what am I saying?" Fleur widens her big blue eyes while gasping. "You are in no condition to be studying like zis! Come, I will Transfeegure you a sleeping bag, green like your eyes, which you can take a power nap in. Maybe... 'alf an hour ought to assist in recharging my leetle big man."

Harry directs Fleur to an empty classroom where she conjures up a comfortable sleeping bag in the middle of the room.

"I'm sure I can manage another hour or so like this—"

"Sleep, 'Arry, right now. I will watch over you while you look like a sausage wrap in zat bag."

Much like back in third year, Harry finds himself having a snooze in a conjured sleeping bag. Thirty minutes later sees him up and thoroughly refreshed as his glasses are gently put on by Fleur.

"You are sweating a leetle bit... oh," Fleur gives a guilty giggle. "I forgot zat eet is so warm outside. Sorry for ze zick bag, 'Arry."

"You can make it up to me with a good afternoon of Charms tutoring. Can we practice non-verbally?"

Fleur smiles then nods her head, swishing her long silvery blonde hair. "Looking for vairy big marks, yes? I can certainly revise ze spells without saying it loud. Eat your chocolate and let us begin."

With five textbooks laid out on the surrounding old desks, Harry spends the remainder of his afternoon going through as much as possible. And his efforts earn him a most impressed look from Fleur as evening arrives.

"So eet is evidently true what Seerius says. You do 'ave your muzzer's talent with Charms... and you own skill too, of course. Be careful, zough. I noticed zat your colour-changing Charm sometimes becomes a growth one. Do not confuse ze incantations, okay? Feeling more confident?"

"I evidently am!" Harry grabs the laughing Fleur into a tight hug before packing up and heading for dinner. Come hell or high water, he is certainly prepared to give it his all in the most important exam of a student's life.

 


	33. The O.W.L.s Have Arrived

The second week of June has arrived, bringing along its dreaded O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations.

Harry's awakes shortly before sunrise in the Gryffindor Boys' dormitory. Looking around, he spots his roommates now desperately reciting their incantations and wand movements. Seamus sits on Dean's bed, with both blitzing through their Charms textbook at speeds Harry's rarely seen before. Then comes a panicked flurry of murmuring and wand-waving as Neville paces around his bed. Meanwhile, Ron and Roger sit near the door with their ears shut, looking up to the ceiling in theoretical recitation. Books levitate around the room, empty ink bottles are made to race one another, curtains change colour, shelves are smashed before being repaired, and objects go whizzing about from being summoned or banished. All in all, it's an early morning packed with cramming students.

_BANG!_

"BLIMEY! You can't just kick open our door and—OI!" Ron crawls aside as Hermione grabs a pyjama-clad Harry before summoning his Slytherin uniform. Then, she almost drags him out the room and down the stairs.

"I'm getting abducted by a deranged girl with bushy hair!" he says, laughing until she throws him onto a couch in the empty common room. "I still need to get dressed, crazy girl."

"Just strip and change right here! This exam is of the utmost importance, so you'd better prove to be a useful last minute study partner." Hermione's breathing comes shallow and fast as she opens her textbook while Harry gets changed right beside her.

"Don't mind what's sticking out of my undies, you already know what happens to guys in the morn—"

"Just hurry up so we can get started on testing me!" she then groans as Harry takes his own time slipping on his trousers. "For God's sake, now you're just being SPITEFUL."

Hermione's furious glare elicits a mischievous grin from Harry as he speaks. "You turn me on when you're so angry, Miss Granger. Look, here's the proof..."

"You've got three seconds until I throw your prized possessions with this textbook, so...  _hurry up_." Now she takes aim with a rather thick book, causing Harry to squirm and hurriedly pull up his trousers before slipping on his robes.

"All dressed! Shirt, tie, trousers... everything's set. Calm down, Hermione, you're acting totally barbaric."

"Sit—your—arse—DOWN," says Hermione, slamming Harry onto the couch before handing over her textbook. "Test me on something... anything! And no damn jokes this time, Potter!"

"Whoa, surname? Uh, okay then, Granger! Give the wand movement and description for the Impedimen—"

"Horizontal line left to right; slows down or possibly freezes any attackers or incoming obstacles relative to the caster."

Harry hears nothing but rapid breathing from Hermione as she's seated on the ground facing the couch. "Perfect, so give the wand movement for the Unlocking Charm, Miss Granger."

"Nearly 360 degrees clockwise motion followed by a vertical downward slash through the centre diameter of the clockwise movement," replies Hermione, her speech coming frantic and fast.

"Wow, now that's a mouthful, but it's a perfect description, nonetheless." Harry glances worriedly over the textbook at a hyperventilating Hermione. "What was the spell that nearly caused you to lash out at Ronald back in a first-year Charms class?"

"What the hell?" asks a frowning Hermione. "I said no jokes, Potter! Fine, it was  _Wingardium Leviosa_ , and you weren't there to witness it anyway. Now what has this got to do with our O.W.L.?"

"You almost went crying that day, adorable little Granger," says a smiling Harry, looking down from his spot on the couch. "Remind me what you were planning on doing after your Charms class?"

Hermione narrows her eyes while scowling. "Why are we going over all this yet again? Ugh, I was going to cry in that bathroom in the dungeons. But then I saw Mister Harry Potter coming along with his pack of 'friends', who are now basically his enemies."

"Yeah," says Harry, sighing and staring into the glowing fireplace behind Hermione. "I remember it was a Thursday, Halloween, and you had Charms first period while mine was Defence. Professor Quirrell wasn't in; supposedly feeling a bit off that morning."

The panicked expression eases a slight bit on Hermione's face as she reminisces as well. "That was probably when he brought in the troll. Now that I think back, we should've gone to see it."

"I tried!" laughs Harry. "But you were the one who insisted we go back to our common rooms after the feast."

Hermione smiles, and laughs, for the first time today. "Your common room was in the dungeons, anyway! Remind me what happened when all you Slytherins got down there." She moves to sit on the ground right before the grinning Harry.

"Funniest thing ever... The troll had just finished annihilating the bathroom, where you could've been, before lumbering down one of the dungeon corridors towards us. It was up to the Prefects and older students to take it down while we youngsters fled in terror." Harry leans back on the couch while sighing in nostalgic remembrance. "I remember Marcus Flint running in with his usual  _Slytherin for the Cup_  chant. Then, all the fifth, sixth, and seventh-years just beat the hell out of that troll with spells. Very funny, yeah... wasn't funny when we first-years were made to repair the bathroom, though."

"At least that troll survived and won't ever be tricked into coming here again," says Hermione, shaking her finger at Harry. "Little Chosen One just stood and did nothing, huh?"

"Well, I was still a scaredy cat back then."

Now it's Hermione's turn to grin smugly at Harry. "Remind me where you were during that troll takedown?"

"Hiding behind a statue," mumbles Harry.

"Uh-uh, you're missing a crucial detail there, Mister Selective Memory. I remember Pansy being far more manly than you back then. Wasn't she holding her Scaredy-Cat-Who-Lived quite protectively, hmm? The same boy who seemed petrified in his first Potions class. Mister Macho Man of today had to let his new female friend do the talking with the big, bad Professor Snape back then. Hahaha!"

"That was a lifetime ago—"

"Just over four and a half years, actually," says an amused Hermione.

"Same difference! The wizarding world was so vast and new to me, even by October, okay? I didn't get a timely notice like you, okay? My letters were withheld from me, OKAY? You got Professor McGonagall coming in all peaceful to your  _actual_  home, okay? I ended up on some random hut where Hagrid kicked down the door, alright?"

"Aww, did I just touch a nerve?" asks Hermione, looking Harry in the eye as she remains on the ground. "Little lonely train compartment boy."

Raising his voice to a higher pitch, Harry mimics an overly snobbish young girl (complete with tilting his head high). " _Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then._ "

Hermione, in retaliation, mimics an overly uncertain young boy trying so hard to get his first spell right. " _Reparo!_ " Then she shakes her head at Harry. "And you weren't even saying it right, silly."

Still mocking the younger Hermione, Harry grins while mimicking. " _No, no, no, no! You're saying it wrong._ "

"Okay, enough history lessons, let's carry on," says Hermione.

"Only if you remain calm and controlled. Stop hyperventilating and going nuts, Miss Granger."

"But... you don't understand! The O.W.L.s are the absolute, most crucially essential examinations of the utmost importance to any student. Our whole future rests on the next two weeks, Harry James Potter. By the way, just because you've got an innate knack for Charms does  _not_  grant you the right to be this infuriatingly calm before our written test."

"Face it like a man," says Harry, "That's how my Uncle motivates Big D."

"Do I look like a man to you? Is there something dangling between my legs?" asks Hermione.

"Hmm, I dunno. Maybe I should check? Are you still squeaky clean with no hair down there?"

"I'm going to throw you with this book," warns a scarlet-faced Hermione. "Test me on something else, Harry, quickly!"

"Goddamn, Granger," sighs Harry, "Relax your pretty self. Look, I think he agrees too."

Crookshanks comes strolling along to sit before Hermione, who scratches him between the ears. Then, seconds later, he rubs his head against Hermione's knee before leaping to curl up on Harry's lap.

"See? Your rat-catching genius prefers a far less stressful seat," says Harry, stroking Crookshanks along his back. "Alright, let's carry on..." He continues questioning Hermione over the next hour. Then, she catches him off guard by sitting on the couch and resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm so hungry."

"If you'd stop stressing, then we could head out for some breakfast," says Harry, feeling both of their stomachs rumbling.

"But... we need to save time and—"

"We are going for breakfast  _right now,_ " insists Harry, "Your mix of anxiety and hunger is driving you mental. Fine, stay here and suffer, but I'm going to the Great Hall regardless of how mad you are."

"Perhaps you're right," says Hermione, standing up with Harry (causing Crookshanks to leap off in search of another warm seat). "But we should study at the table as well."

They soon head for the Fat Lady's portrait. Meanwhile, Crookshanks bundles up Harry's pyjama top and trousers before hissing as a House Elf appears to clean them up. Both Harry and Hermione now race down the grand staircase en route to the Entrance Hall. Even though it's only 7am, nearly every fifth and seventh-year student has already arrived in the Great Hall. And while most sit around peacefully studying, Harry spots a clear division at the Slytherin table.

"I don't have time for riff-raff," says Head Girl Yasmin, seated with Bletchley, Pucey, and Warrington away from the other seventh-years.

"Everything alright?" asks Harry, approaching the Head Girl seated beside Pansy's group.

"Out here? Yes. Down there? Not quite," says Yasmin. "You did yourself a favour staying out of our tense common room last night, Harry. Most of my classmates were pissed off at your Prefect assistance with Hermione Granger."

"Arguments and threats as usual," says Bletchley, spooning food in his mouth while staring at an opened  _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7._  "You would've never been able to study in that vibe."

"Just a few more weeks then we're out of this school," says Warrington, "I think I'm gonna travel abroad next year, yeah."

"Hey, look who's coming," says Pucey, gesturing towards the Head Boy approaching the Slytherin table.

Indeed, Cedric Diggory comes rushing over with his Muggle Studies book in hand. "Hey, fellow seventh-years, want to go use the computer quickly? Let's practice our internet skills. Oh, hey, Harry!"

"In my opinion," says Yasmin, folding her arms and putting on a haughty expression. "Witches and wizards who shun and ignore the non-Magical world are fools. I'm glad I switched over from Ancient Runes to Muggle Studies, yep."

"Yeah! Who cares about old stuff?" asks Pucey, raising his voice, "It is simply stupid to be ignorant of the Muggles these days. I just wish our fellow classmates could understand that."

"Muggles suck!" shouts Fawley from down the table, "And all of you disgraces to our House are shaming us by doing Muggle Studies!"

"Idiot," scoffs Pansy, seated beside Yasmin, "Maybe a hundred years ago we could outright ignore the Muggles. But now, things are different; they're evolving quite fast with everything."

"So, why haven't you taken Muggle Studies then?" asks Cedric.

"Because I know more than enough about them already. You're doing advanced internet practice for part of your exams? Well, here's a tip: don't put in overly long, complicated words or sentences in the search engine."

"Yeah, yeah," nods Cedric, "We pretty much figured that out."

Warrington snorts with laughter upon remembering something. "Folks, I know we frown upon Muggles, but there's no need to show us how shameless they can be. Yasmin, put the damn safe search ON next time we look up stuff."

"You had the filter off?" asks a grinning Harry, looking at the red-faced Head Girl.

"It was for research purposes, yes. Their society's evolving and devolving simultaneously, shame," says Yasmin.

"You think Professor Burbage will let us play those floppy disk games again? I need to beat Fred and George's high scores," says Bletchley, seeing the expression on Harry's face. "Yeah, they could smash me in Quidditch but nobody tops my computer game scores!"

Harry smiles while speaking. "It's quite funny, you know? I mean, for you folks that have grown up in the wizarding world, you see Quidditch as an ordinary thing while absolutely adoring those Muggle computer games. It's almost the opposite for me; Quidditch is unbelievably amazing!"

"What? Come on," says Yasmin, "Quidditch is... okay. But we can fight hell, go to space, build big cities, eat lots and lots of dots... and do all kinds of stuff on just a computer. To us magically-nurtured witches and wizards, that's quite magical."

"Let's head to class quickly," says Bletchley, "I wanna play that round circle man that eats all the dots up."

"Not that game again," sighs Pucey, "I'd much rather fly in space and shoot stuff."

"We've played that one enough," says Yasmin, "I wanna play that game where you shoot the demons of hell. You know, the one where you see from behind the gun while there's your character's face at the bottom? Come on, let's go!"

"I heard we might get to try the new Muggle stationplayer after exams," says Warrington, causing Harry to laugh.

"PlayStation, that's what it's called. I seriously can't believe you guys play games as part of your curriculum."

"Yeah, but it's just a small part of it. What a pity that we'll soon be gone, though," says Bletchley. "I heard next year's lot will get to play a new PlayStation game. Something about some orange animal dude spinning and killing things on a big island. Oh, and it's got masks that make you stronger! Man, why must it only come out in September?"

Once they've finished their breakfasts, Yasmin's group swiftly stands up to exit the Great Hall in excited whispers.

"Hey, wait for me!" Cedric hurries off too, causing the twins to glance suspiciously from the Gryffindor table.

"And now?" asks Fred.

"Where are they going all excited like that?" adds George.

Harry mimics typing on a keyboard, which immediately has the twins bolting from their seats towards the doors, leaving Angelina behind.

"No way," says Fred, "My high scores will never be beaten!  _Never_!"

" _Ever_!" adds George.

"Are you bloody kidding me?" Angelina groans to the air.

With most of the noise gone from the Great Hall, Harry takes a seat between Pansy and Daphne. "How are you girls coping? Ready for the O.W.L.s?"

"Unlike your hysterical Granger, we've decided upon being content with our studies," says Daphne, "Stress blocks the brain, and then you make no gain."

"It only causes pain," adds Sally-Anne.

"Which is a darn shame," says Millicent, nudging Tracey to speak:

"Your knowledge then goes down the drain."

"So, from going ballistic, we shall abstain!" says a grinning Pansy. "How'd you like our rhymes, Harry?"

"Wow, you ladies must've been really bored," says Harry, clapping nonetheless.

Pansy resumes her casual, last minute reading while eating. "Don't stress over us; go calm your panicking overachiever Snuggleborn sitting over there."

At nine o'clock, the rest of the school resumes their lessons while the fifth and seventh-years wait around in the Entrance Hall. To Harry's delight, his godfather soon takes a quick detour from patrol. "All set? Cramming done? Brain filled?" asks Sirius, uncaring for the dozens of students watching as he hugs his godson.

"Yeah, I've prepped all I can," says Harry, equally uncaring for onlookers as he returns the gesture.

"You'll be fine," says Sirius, "I should know, considering how we've coped at the Ministry." His words elicit furious expressions from Malfoy's group standing metres away near the front doors. But Sirius hardly gives a damn as he continues pep-talking Harry's Charms and Transfiguration efforts. "Don't lose your head worrying about McGonagall's work. It's always been difficult for everyone who's ever attended this school."

Professors McGonagall and Snape now enter the Hall, while the latter 'politely' requests that Sirius to return to the grounds.

"Ah, no worries, Professor Snape," says Sirius, "I was just wishing them well for the O.W.L.s" His expression turns to a grin; the kind of sly smile one gets when remembering something particularly mischievous. "The O.W.L. examinations, Severus..."

Harry, however, remains wholly confused as Snape glares at the smug Sirius before McGonagall separates the pair. "Thank you, Sirius, but may I request that you resume your watchful duties over our grounds?"

"Certainly, Professor McGonagall," Sirius winks at Snape while exiting the castle, leaving the Potions Master to swiftly return to the dungeons.

Professor Dumbledore soon descends the marble staircase while speaking. "I trust you are all well on this fine Monday morning? Books, quills, ink bottles, and brains, let us go forth and set aside our fears. For none of you are anything less than bright to have come this far." He pauses to smile at the nervous group of students. "I would ask that you kindly enter the Great Hall when called upon."

At half past nine, Harry sits within a single desk in one of many rows facing the staff table. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall stand beside it, on which spare ink bottles, rolls of parchment, and quills are laid out.

"You may begin," says Dumbledore, turning over an enormous hourglass placed on the table for timekeeping.

Fears, anxiety, and scenarios of failing immediately plague Harry's mind, necessitating the use of Occlumency. In shutting down his negative thoughts, Harry feels a sense of calm while hearing dozens of quills scratching on parchments around him. After turning over his paper, he dips his quill while reading the first question. It appears to request the incantation and wand movement required to make objects fly. Now, a fond smile forms on Harry's face as he writes:

_"a) Wingardium Leviosa, which is best pronounced as: Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa. We should make the "gar" nice and long, so as not to say it wrong. b) A wavy pattern resembling a swish which is followed by a flick of the wrist._

Moving on, Harry now reads the second question of his Charms paper.

_"Which spell is known to reverse the effects of others after they've been cast?"_

Seeing that this question is worth around 4 marks, Harry resists the urge to simply name and move on. Instead, he answers:

_"Finite Incantatem, which can also be shortened to Finite when needed. The shortened version might be less effective compared to the full incantation if used by a relatively inexperienced caster. However, this spell serves as a general counterspell, which leaves more potent spells partially affected, or unaffected, by its use. Quite a few spells do exist out there which require their specific counterspell in order to be reversed or cancelled out. In the hands of an experienced caster, however, Finite Incantatem might affect a wider range of spells than the novice might achieve."_

Next, he spots a bonus/optional question (worth 3 marks) stating:  _"a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement of the water-making spell."_

_Oh, Fleur, you silly girl that almost got burnt in the Tournament_. Harry grins while writing:

_"a) Aguamenti b) A fine swishing motion, similar to the start of the Levitation Charm."_

Moving on, his confidence falters as he only partially answers or even skips over a few questions. However, these lost marks are soon recovered via more bonus questions, including:

_"a) Provide the incantation and b) wand movement of at least one protective enchantment. c) Give a thorough explanation of their workings. [20 marks]"_

Harry grins before softly laughing in the silent Great Hall (causing Dumbledore to glance his way). With a freshly inked quill in hand, he lists and describes three Protegos which he's currently aware of, as well as  _Salvio Hexia_. These bonus questions sure do come as a relief over the next two hours, especially considering the growing number of partially answered questions on Harry's parchment sheet. Minutes turn to over an hour as the exam moves on, while Harry double and triple checks his work along the way. From incantations to wand movements to descriptions to spells required per given scenario, the Charms paper truly proves more than just a 'soft option'. Finally, with the hourglass emptied at 11:30am, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall cease the examination.

One by one, the answer sheets are collected until everyone is cleared to leave... and they all but race out the double doors.

"Well, I suppose it wasn't too bad, right?" asks Hermione, battling her way through the crowd to approach Harry in the Entrance Hall. "How in-depth did you answer this question over here... the Cheering Charm one?"

Nobody's in the mood to discuss this exam. But, given that it's  _Hermione Granger_  sitting beside him on the ground, Harry gladly indulges her discussion. "I got the incantation right for sure, and clearly the wand movement too... Description, uh, I mostly thought about that time I used it on Neville in our third-year Charms practical. Honestly, I feel that I missed a fair bit of marks with the mandatory questions..."

"You probably did better than me," says Hermione, causing Harry to guffaw with laughter.

"Not this again! You always act so stressed and stuff, but then end up top of the class."

"How'd you do on all those bonus questions spread across our paper? I'm sure you answered them all thoroughly correct," says Hermione.

"And so did you, I'm sure."

Five Slytherin boys stomp their way past the seated Harry and Hermione, before Malfoy stops. "If the two of you don't shut up about the exam then I'm putting Potter in deten—"

"Then you're doing what?" asks Fred, accompanied by George, Bletchley, Warrington, Cedric, Yasmin, Angelina, Pucey, and Cho as the group surrounds that of Malfoy's.

"You're  _this_  close to getting reported, Malfoy," says Cedric, flashing his Head Boy badge. "If we catch you trying to abuse your Prefect status again..."

"This is no longer Umbridge's playground, Malfoy," says Cho, folding her arms as she stands beside her boyfriend. "Why don't you try acting civil towards your old friend?"

" _Friend_?" Malfoy looks around in part-amusement, part-disgust from Harry to the gagging Nott. "Theodore, are you hearing this?"

"I guess they don't understand the difference between friendship and acquaintance by circumstance," says Nott, "We were never truly your friends, Potter, just keeping civil around our own. How does that make you feel?"

"Great!" replies Harry. "Takes a load of my mind knowing I've never made the wrong sort of buddies at Hogwarts, yeah. Enjoy my absence while it lasts, because I'm coming home once the exams are done."

Zabini scoffs while looking down at Harry. "Keep yourself strong-mouth now, Potter. But your seventh-year buddies will be gone next year. Of this whole group, only Chang will be around to hide behind. Oh, and your misguided handful of girls in our House too. Times will change."

"That's it," says Pansy, flashing her badge. "If you don't back off with your bullying, then  _I'm_  giving detention."

"You can't touch a fellow Prefect," says Malfoy, gesturing to his own badge. "Now be quiet while we shut your babbling friend up. Nobody wants to hear Potter and his Mudblood discuss the exam."

"And nobody wants to hear your constant complaints," says Angelina, "Don't insult the girl who's only played one proper Quidditch game, and yet she beat you."

"With a ton of help," sneers Nott.

"How about I dump you into detention for constant aggressive behaviour towards a student?" asks Pansy.

Zabini eyes the group defending Harry before taunting them. "You folks all angry that we're trash talking your dear Potter? Go ahead and get us now, right here during the exams."

"Exams are gonna be over at some point," says a wickedly grinning George, "That's all I'm saying."

Yasmin bites her lip while trying to remain calm. "I think we're all gonna turn a blind eye to when you prank the hell out of this lot."

Now, Hermione stops reading over her question paper to stand up. "Detention tonight, for all of you..."

"You can't touch me," says Malfoy.

"But I can," says Cedric, "I concur with Hermione. All five of you, Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle too, are getting detention. That'll be starting at half past five until eight o'clock—"

"Who cares about detention?" laughs Nott.

"— and you'll be cleaning up wherever Mr. Filch needs you during that time. No magic, and no studying."

Malfoy's group goes silent while frowning.

"Hope you've been studying well up until this point," says Angelina, "There goes your evening to detention, jerks."

"You can't mess with our exam preparation," says a seething Zabini.

"And you can't go running your mouth against Harry like this," says Warrington, "You dish it; you take it."

Lunch arrives at noon, but it's a subdued affair until the fifth-years troop off towards a chamber beside the Great Hall. Here, they cram in some last minute spellcasting while waiting to be called alphabetically.

"Nervous, Scarhead? You should be," says Nott, standing with his group near one corner of the chamber.

Pansy, however, refuses to watch Harry be accosted right before an exam. "You better shut the hell up before I dish out punishment."

"Stand with the Purebloods, Parkinson, or your mother might not approve. You're a disgrace to that badge," says Malfoy.

"If I'm a disgrace, then what does that make you, Malfoy?" asks Pansy while she leans to rest against Harry.

"Come on, people, just stop all this damn fighting so the rest of us can study!" says Ernie Macmillan, seated along a wall with his Hufflepuff group.

"Everybody, just—shut—up!" says a loudly groaning Lily Moon. "On and on and on and on, blah blah blah blah!"

Many Ravenclaws grow angrier by the second before Padma finally speaks. "Enough! How about you all look at the list and prepare to be called up." She then points at a parchment hanging on the wall, which states:

_Abbot, Hannah_

_Bones, Susan_

_Boot, Terry_

_Brocklehurst, Mandy_

_Brown, Lavender_

_Bulstrode, Millicent_

_Corner, Michael_

_Cornfoot, Stephen_

_Crabbe, Vincent_

_Davis, Tracey_

_Dunbar, Fay_

_Entwhistle, Kevin_

_Finch-Fletchley, Justin_

_Finnigan, Seamus_

_Goldstein, Anthony_

_Goyle, Gregory_

_Granger, Hermione_

_Greengrass, Daphne_

_Hopkins, Wayne_

_Jones, Megan_

_Li, Su_

_Longbottom, Neville_

_MacDougal, Morag_

_Macmillan, Ernest_

_Malfoy, Draco_

_Malone, Roger_

_Midgen, Eloise_

_Moon, Lily_

_Nott, Theodore_

_Parkinson, Pansy_

_Patil, Padma_

_Patil, Parvati_

_Perks, Sally-Anne_

_Potter, Harry_

_Rivers, Oliver_

_Roper, Sophie_

_Smith, Zacharias_

_Thomas, Dean_

_Turpin, Lisa_

_Weasley, Ronald_

_Zabini, Blaise_

"It's gonna be a long wait for me yet again," says Harry, leaning back against the wall.

Zabini, seated in a nearby corner, lets out a mocking cough. "Why are you complaining, Potter? I'll be stuck with that dirty Weasel right at the pits of the list... yet again."

"I'm throwing you in even more detention if you mock Ron again," warns Hermione nearby.

"We're trying to study here," mutters Zacharias Smith. "Be quiet, Potter, and you too, Zabini! Take your Slytherin problems elsewhere." The group of Hufflepuffs, now sitting huddled together, all gesture for Harry and Zabini to be silent.

"Could you chaps please be civil for just a few minutes before our practical?" asks Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Shut your face," says Malfoy, upon moving to sit beside Zabini. "Our arguments are none of your concerns, Duffer."

"How utterly stupid of you, Malfoy," says a sighing Harry. "Mocking people's Houses like that is so old. Why don't you leave them alone?"

"Duffers are useless, that's why," says Malfoy.

"People like you give us Slytherins a bad name," replies Harry. "Shut your cesspool of a mouth, please."

"Detention for bad-mouthing a Prefect, Potter!" says Malfoy triumphantly. "You ought to learn respect."

"How dare you throw Harry in detention!" says Pansy, "You'd better take that back  _right_   _now._ "

"I'll organise with Filch to have you clean the whole damn fifth floor tomorrow evening, Potter," sneers Malfoy. "And that includes the Prefects' Bathroom... which you'll  _never_ ever get to see, hahaha!"

"Hahaha!" laughs Harry. "Nobody throws the Chosen One in detention without extremely good reason. So, which of you Prefects feel that Malfoy's made a crap decision?" He grins as Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Hermione, Ron, and Pansy all raise their hands. "Witnesses galore; I'll be having a chat with Professor Dumbledore later on."

"Spoilt brat—" Malfoy's words are interrupted as Professor Flitwick enters the chamber.

"Alright, let's get started." He looks at his list upon calling: "Abbot, Hannah... Bones, Susan... Boot, Terry... and Brocklehurst, Mandy. Please follow me into the Great Hall where your examiners await."

Nobody speaks a word as students gradually leave in groups of four. From the first group it goes to that of Millicent Bulstrode, Lavender Brown, Michael Corner, and Stephen Cornfoot. The remaining students now cramming in whatever last minute revision they can manage. More minutes pass by until it's Crabbe, Davis, Dunbar, and Entwhistle getting up to leave. But as they head for the door, Crabbe deliberately barges Harry aside.

"Piss off and fail," mutters Harry, "I hope you end up having to repeat this exam next year..."

"I hope  _you_  fail, Plotterhead," replies Malfoy, to which Nott, Zabini, and Goyle nod in agreement.

"Will you people just keep your mouths shut already!" says Megan Jones of Hufflepuff. "Even during the exam, you can't stop lashing out at one another."

"Well, do wish me luck," says Finch-Fletchley, who's soon called alongside Finnigan, Goldstein, and Goyle.

"What a stupid Mudblood," whispers Malfoy to Nott, as the pair mock and snigger at the nervous Justin.

"I'd be more concerned over your brainless gorilla of a friend, Malfoy," says Hermione, causing Harry to guffaw quite loudly. "What are the odds that Goyle can even achieve one Exceeds Expectations?"

"At least his blood is pure, unlike yours," retorts Zabini.

"Argh! Here we go  _again_  with the fricken arguments," says Wayne Hopkins of Hufflepuff. "Why can't you even pretend to tolerate each other's presence in this small room?"

Regardless of seeing many students focused on their studies, Harry raises his voice. "Hermione's blood is purer than yours, Zapanini."

"IT'S ZABINI! Think you're funny, huh—"

"You're making a damn noise, so be quiet!" says Ron.

"Yeah, you people are like a bunch of girls the way you keep going at each other," says Su Li of Ravenclaw.

"Now that's just sexist," replies Harry, "And ironic, too."

"Less arguing, more revision," says Morag MacDougal as the next group is called.

"Good luck, not that you folks need it," says Harry, smiling at Hermione and Daphne as they exit alongside Wayne Hopkins and Megan Jones. The wait continues until Su Li, Neville Longbottom, Morag MacDougal, and Ernie Macmillan are called from the Entrance Hall outside. Wordlessly, they hurry out the room as the remaining students finalize their cramming.

"What are you staring at, Potter?" asks Malfoy.

"Focus on your exam, because you're up next," says Harry.

Flitwick's voice comes yet again from the Entrance Hall. "Malfoy, Draco... Malone, Roger... Midgen, Eloise... and Moon, Lily. Please make haste to the Great Hall."

"This exam is nothing; Charms is a waste of time," scoffs Malfoy on his way out.

"You've got a nice group," says Harry while grinning at Pansy, "Except for one annoying bastard."

"At least I won't have to go in with you, Potter," sneers Nott.

Pansy swiftly wraps her arms around Harry. "Oh crap, I'm up next, do wish me luck."

"You'll be A-Ok," Harry returns the gesture by wrapping his arms around Pansy.

"What about us? How about one for some luck too? We're all gonna need to go in at our very bests today," says Parvati. Now, with Flitwick standing right outside and preparing to call, Harry stands between the Patils for a group hug.

"Nott, Theodore... Parkinson, Pansy... Patil, Padma... Patil, Parvati."

Minutes later, Sally-Anne moves to sit beside Harry as the wait continues. "So, Harry, are you thinking of pulling some charm on the examiners? And I'm not talking about magic."

"Heh, you know me too well," replies a grinning Harry.

"Yeah, ride your fame and fortune all you'd like," says Zabini, "It won't get you much further in life."

"All of you... SHUT UP," says Zacharias Smith, "If Potter wants to use his status to influence the exam then so be it. It's his loss if he gets falsely marked, now keep quiet, Zabini."

"What would you know about status?" asks Zabini. "You're a Duffer."

"Exactly, and I'm related to Hepzibah Smith, descendant of Helga Hufflepuff herself!" Zacharias puffs out his chest and seems unfazed by Zabini's snide remark.

"Hold on, wasn't that that overweight lady who got murdered long ago by her own House Elf? Not something to be proud of, Smith."

Since there are nine students left, Harry soon stands up with Perks, Rivers, and Roper. This leaves the final five students grouped together for their session.

"Good luck," says a visibly nervous Ron.

"Thanks, same to you, Ronald."

The Great Hall has been cleared once again with its House tables lined against the walls. From Harry's view at the double doors, he spots quite a few examiners seated at small desks throughout the Hall.

"Let's see... ah, Professor Marchbanks is free for you, Potter," says Flitwick, gesturing towards a tiny, stooped old witch seated where the Gryffindor table would usually be. Still muttering, demonstrating, and explaining to their own examiners nearby are Macmillan, Malfoy, Nott, and Parvati. Just as Harry steps forward, he hears Flitwick whispering to him:

"Truth be told, Professor Tofty... the gentleman examining Malfoy... was hoping to test you, Mister Potter. Anyway, best of luck with Professor Marchbanks."

"Thanks," whispers Harry. Although nervous, he refuses to let it show upon walking down the aisle to approach his examiner. As expected, Professor Marchbanks isn't the only one keenly observing Harry; her colleagues dart their gaze every so often to watch the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Mister Harry Potter... it seems I usually get the ones destined for publicity." Marchbanks speaks in a loud voice which alerts Harry to some degree of deafness. Now, many students nearby immediately stall their demonstrations to eavesdrop on Harry's conversation, as he's forced to reply quite loudly.

"My apologies, Professor Marchbanks, but it seems trouble and publicity follow me wherever I go."

"There's no need for flattery, Potter. Given everything we've all heard about the recent Ministry incident, well, let's see what the boy who's fought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can do." Everything about Professor Marchbanks shows that she's expecting nothing less than a seriously high performance from Harry. "There's no need to be nervous," she adds. "I'll have you know that I examined Professor Dumbledore himself many decades ago. Although those were his N.E.W.T.s, Dumbledore did things with a wand which I've never seen before. No pressure, I'm just giving you a bit of old history because your Headmaster speaks most highly of you."

_Why is it always me_? wonders Harry, while drawing his wand to prepare for his first practical O.W.L. Metres away, Malfoy barely suppresses his sniggering as he seemingly enjoys the raised expectations placed on Harry.

"Firstly, I'd like you to summon that object with minimal damage," says Marchbanks, directing Harry's attention to a glass vase positioned at the opposite end of the Great Hall.

Harry takes aim with his wand, which seems to go relatively unnoticed by most folks here. As he prepares to cast his spell under close observation, Harry clears his mind of negative thoughts. Sure, he may not be an expert on silent spellcasting, but he's got the basics spot-on. Concentration, understanding, incantation, wand movement, and intent... they're all here as he yells in his mind.  _Accio Vase!_

The glass vase lifts off and flies across the room before Harry grabs hold to place it on Marchbanks' desk. Quite a simple task, really, and he stands with a grin that has Malfoy and Nott throwing scathing looks. Even better, in Harry's opinion, is the shattering of glass as Nott's distraction costs him his Levitation test.

"Most impressive, Potter. But have you not considered that I need to mark you on your pronunciation?" asks Professor Marchbanks.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am. It's just that I'm still in that Ministry-battle mood. Non-verbal casting had truly helped against Voldemort"—Harry grins at the usual reaction to the Dark Lord's name—"and his  _foolish_  Death Eaters."

Malfoy's egg cup accidentally explodes during his attempt at making it do cartwheels on his examiner's desk.

"Oh dear, Malfoy!" says Professor Tofty while repairing both egg cup and his desk. "No matter, there are still a few more tasks left."

"Perhaps... let's see how many tasks you can complete non-verbally, Potter," says Marchbanks. "Next, I want to see this cup floating for at least ten seconds before having it do backflips on this table."

_Wingardium Leviosa_! Harry inwardly thanks Hermione for her infamous Leviosa correction, which Ron still mentions to this day.

"Do tell me, Potter, how you came about learning non-verbal spellcasting," says Marchbanks, while her eyes remain focused upon the levitating egg cup.

"It was a key part of my Triwizard Tournament preparations, ma'am. Because I thought we Champions might've ended up duelling each other at some point."

The cup remains hovering for over ten seconds throughout Harry's chat with his examiner, then he sets it down and Charms it to perform the requested backflips across the table. Another decent attempt, he reckons.

"We shall now move on to a living creature," says Marchbanks, now Transfiguring the cup to a rat. "Switch its colour to orange; bonus points if only the fur is changed."

Harry takes aim in preparation for his next task. Here is where understanding of magical theory truly plays a role, as it's a gamble between risk and reward. Does he take the easiest option of verbally completing the task? Or perhaps non-verbally change the entire rat for a sufficient score? Or should he go for broke by non-verbally attempting to focus on the rat's fur? A daunting task indeed.

_Colovaria! Come on... come on... please don't fail. I know you won't fail._

A tense few seconds pass by as Harry fires his spell while staying visibly focused. Then, relief steadily sweeps over him as the rat's fur turns a shade of orange while everything else remains unchanged. Moving on, he completes subsequent tasks examining his Growth-Charm, General Counterspell, and Mending Charm.

"That concludes your Charms O.W.L., Mister Potter," says Professor Marchbanks. "You are free to leave and, hopefully, resume preparations for your next examination."

However, it's not all peaceful for Harry as, later on, he's approached by Malfoy's group in the middle courtyard.

"Look here, boys; it seems we have ourselves a bona fide arse-licker! Who do you think you are to show off like that today?" asks a seething Malfoy, whose loud tone attracts the attention of many students outside. These include Hermione rushing over with Ginny, Ron, and Pansy.

"What in hell are you complaining about this time, Malfoy?" asks Ron, "Don't you have better things to do? Like studying for tomorrow's Transfiguration?"

"Potter thinks he's special, that's what," scoffs Nott. "Bah! That was nothing but dumb, stupid, filthy luck in there today."

"Another conversation, another rage," groans Ginny, "Harry, what's got your old pals going so nuts?"

"Do remind us: Was it the part-human excuse of a Veela-bred girl that taught you that stuff?" asks Zabini. However, just as he's about to worsen his insults, he looks to the right as Fleur seems to have overheard the snide remark.

"Taught 'im what, might I ask?"

Malfoy looks over his shoulder while pulling a disgusted expression. "Where did you come from?"

"Next time you talk stupid about someone, make sure she is not nearby on 'er patrolling duties. Now, speet it out what you are attacking my 'Arry over."

Fleur's fierce glare has Nott stepping forward to speak. "Everything always goes Potter's way! If he ain't cheating us out of the Quidditch Cup then he's getting us in detention..."

"Yeah, hope you enjoy it tonight," quips Harry.

"Look at this Half-Blood," says Malfoy, "Going around flaunting his fame to twist old Marchbanks into seeming impressed...  _pathetic_."

"I still do not understand what ze 'ell you are all moaning about!"

"They're just jealous that I completed my entire Charms practical non-verbally."

Ron, Pansy, Ginny, and Hermione all gawk open-mouthed at Harry, who smirks while opening his arms and speaking. "I'm a natural, baby! But, honestly, I just got lucky."

"No, you didn't get 'lucky', so don't say that" replies Pansy, "It was your skill that saved your day. But as for you prats..."—she snarls at Malfoy's group—"why don't you piss off and leave Harry alone?"

"Eef you boys 'ave nothing else to say zen please stop attacking 'Arry," warns Fleur, causing Nott to chortle with laughter while leading his group away.

"How could you risk casting non-verbally in the O.W.L., Harry?" asks a shocked Hermione. "There are so many things that could've gone wrong!"

"You don't play games with the O.W.L.s," agrees Ron.

"But did anything go wrong? Nope," replies Harry. "You're a genius, Hermione Jean Granger, but too stubborn to take risks at times."

"I'm 50/50 on this," says Pansy, "That was a great gamble you took there... but I wouldn't have done it. Granger's right about the stakes being far too high here."

"What do you have tomorrow... Transfiguration?" asks Ginny. "You'd better not try and take chances with  _that_  subject."

Fleur snugly wraps her arms around Harry from behind as she kisses him on the cheek. "If all went well, zen you could really 'ave scored some seriously good marks in Charms. I am very proud of you, 'Arry. But everyone is right in zat you should  _not_  do it again tomorrow. Transfeeguration is never ever going to be something you can play with. Ze magical theory involved zere is absolutely crazy."

Hermione's expression turns to one of grave concern. "Please, Harry, I won't deny that you're a very bright student. But... you need to know your limits as well, alright?"

Harry spends his evening poring over many complicated spell models and theories, in addition to squeezing in some practical revision. As curfew's due at 9pm, he meets up with Pansy and the girls, as well as Ron and Hermione, at 7pm in an empty classroom on the second floor. Here, they discuss and hope to retain as much as possible before it's time to return to the common rooms for even more revision.

Tuesday morning follows roughly the same pattern as with Charms. By half-past nine, it's time for the theoretical exam which is noticeably more challenging than yesterday's paper. Alternating between mandatory and bonus questions, Harry sits desperately filling in whatever he can recall. Theories around the core nature of Transfiguration, especially with regards to the complexity of living targets, truly brings a scowl to Harry's face as he writes. Fortunately, he's been hitting the books ever since returning to Sirius' place, and he therefore manages to recall a wide variety of spells and their definitions.

Today's wait in the chamber beside the Great Hall seems almost deathly still, as every fifth-year fears for the worst. They exit in groups of four again, in exactly the same order as yesterday.

This time, however, Harry opts to verbally complete his three tasks while heeding Hermione's concerns. First comes the test of undoing the examiner's (with Marchbanks yet again examining Harry) own Transfiguration effort. Judging by the pin cushion reverting back to the same porcupine from earlier, Harry feels reasonably confident in his  _Reparifarge_ attempt. Then comes a test of having to duplicate the examiner's table and chair into as close a copy as possible.

_"Geminio!"_

Harry words the incantation correctly while flicking his wand as required. In a matter of seconds, the table has a mostly-identical twin sitting beside it, as does the chair.

"Very well, Potter," says Professor Marchbanks. "For the third, and final, task, you will vanish this entire iguana that's sitting on my desk"

_Evanesco_  proves to be a spell which Harry's reasonably familiar with by now. He therefore ignores the few students struggling with their efforts nearby as he gets to work. To his surprise, the spell proves to be a success as there's absolutely no sign of an iguana on the desk.

Now, it's two exams down and quite a few more still to go...

 


	34. Plans and Exams

Of all the students prepping for Herbology on Wednesday morning, Neville Longbottom appears most composed. It's an odd sight to not have him in a trembling and stuttering mood before an examination, much like his classmates are today. Since the schedule follows that of Charms and Transfiguration, many fifth-years wolf down their breakfasts to free up time until half past nine. This includes Harry, who rushes out of the noisy Great Hall at half past eight to cram an hour in the greenhouses.

All in all, he later finishes the theory paper, followed by the practical after lunch, with a decent level of confidence. It has certainly helped to have organised such a large study group over the past few weeks, not to mention all the reading he's been forced to do while hidden in the Room of Requirement. But if there's one day that Harry's been eagerly anticipating, it's the second Thursday of June.

"What is the meaning of all this? Cease at once!" says Professor McGonagall, standing on the castle's front steps overlooking the nearly empty Entrance Courtyard. "This is unacceptable behaviour, regardless of today being Potter's Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.!"

" _Engorgio Skullus_!" shouts Sirius, firing his spell across the courtyard to hit his target. "Yeah, that looks about right."

" _Redactum Skullus_ ," Harry shrinks his head back to its usual size. "I do not have a big head... now have a _Locomotor Mortis_!"

Sirius takes the incoming Leg-Locker Curse, which he promptly reverses with its required counterspell. Then he follows up with casting: " _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Harry instinctively swipes his wand upwards. " _Protego_!"

Just as the attack deflects and misses Sirius, Professor McGonagall draws her wand. "This has gone on long enough! We do not revise in such a disruptive manner and without adequate permission. _Expelliarmus_!"

The jet of scarlet bursts forth from McGonagall's wand, but only to smash against a barely visible haze of heat surrounding the duellists.

" _Protego Totalum_ , ma'am," says Harry to a frowning (but impressed) McGonagall. "I thought someone might try and stop us by force."

"Anymore cheek from you, Potter, and I will start deducting House points. Now, kindly end your duel with Sirius Black."

"From one ex-convict to another." Harry bows to his godfather as Sirius wishes him well for today's exam.

"No stress; I know this will be your easiest exam yet," says Sirius, leading his godson up the steps and back into the castle at 9am. Some students, including Malfoy, may scoff and snigger at Harry following his godfather around school, but little does he care. In fact, he openly hugs Sirius right in the Entrance Hall that's packed with fifth-years.

"... can't handle himself when he's alone," mutters Malfoy to Zabini as they throw mocking looks at Harry. "Look at him always running after and admiring older figures."

"At least my godson actually has an older figure to admire, Malfoy," says Sirius, glaring straight at the group of boys seated at the base of the marble staircase. "Proud of your fathers, are you?"

"Just you watch when they get out of jail someday..." mutters Malfoy.

"Say that louder," says Harry, "Anyway, your daddy's not so tough. I knocked him out myself at the Ministry."

"After he was distracted!" retorts Malfoy, "That's what—"

"' _That's what'_ what?" asks a grinning Sirius. "The only two bad guys that escaped our big battle were Voldemort and his closest follower. Been in contact with either of them, Malfoy?"

"Don't you dare make such accusations," says Nott, "Trying to get us in trouble with this new ex-Head Auror Minister, huh? Not gonna work."

Harry knows Malfoy well enough to see him urgently rethinking his words before speaking. "I heard it from Professor Snape himself after the Ministry incident." Malfoy now looks at Harry. "Everyone thinks you're a Saint, Potter, but I wonder if they know that the supposed 'Chosen One' was shielding my aunt? Longbottom, you were the one lashing out at Bellatrix Lestrange, weren't you?"

"That's enough," says Sirius, although Neville reluctantly nods at the question. Now, with everyone listening quite attentively, Malfoy shakes his finger at Harry.

"Why would someone like you, who the Ministry is trying to recruit as its poster-boy against the Dark Lord, protect my evil aunt from Longbottom's attacks? Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potter, or is this our test on defending ourselves against you someday?"

Sirius lets out his usual laugh which sounds like a bark. "BAHAHA! That is the most RIDICULOUS bunch of crap I've heard in a while, Malfoy. Don't you ever suggest that Harry's turning evil just because he opted to be civil to my cousin. Bellatrix still fought against us all the way, and we were just being respectful opponents."

The bickering continues until Professor Dumbledore arrives to lead the students into the Great Hall for their written O.W.L. As everyone heads for their seats, Harry flashes a smile (while blowing a kiss) towards Pansy and Hermione before it's time to begin. Glancing down at his paper, he reads:

" _List and describe five signs that identify a werewolf_."

 _Easy as hell_ , thinks Harry, while writing down a rather lengthy answer. Next comes five lines worth of repelling a group of Grindylows, followed by methods of taking down a lone giant. Moving on, Harry blazes through the hypothetical scenario of being cornered by a Dementor, as well as surviving against a hypothetical Dark wizard. Although it's easy to jot down proposed tactics on paper, Harry imagines (and daydreams) being in this very scenario while writing. Once finished, he nods to himself at his lengthy answer which reads like a story in itself.

Then comes the section on various spells and counterspells, as well their names, wand movements, and a sufficient description of their workings. Harry takes particular joy in describing the Shield Charm, and spares little detail in analysing his experience against the Hungarian Horntail. So fast and passionately does Harry write, that his quill snaps midway through his explanations regarding physical and magical attacks against a _Protego_. He could soldier on with a flat-tipped quill, but instead chooses to raise his hand.

"Pardon me, Professor, but my quill just snapped from all this writing. And I think I'll be needing another roll of parchment too."

Dumbledore wandlessly sends the requested items zipping down the aisle where they end up hovering beside Harry's desk.

"Thank you, sir."

Wasting no time, Harry gets right back into the theoretical fight. Soon, he describes the Shield Charm's ability to counter both physical and magical assault, with just one notorious exception:

" _...Avada Kedavra is proven to be capable of bypassing any and all well-known defensive spells. Therefore, while an expert Shield Charm may survive against even an Imperius or Cruciatus attack, the Killing Curse requires a complete change of defensive tactics by the targeted individual_..."

The quality of Harry's answers remains consistent throughout the ten remaining questions. Then, once the enormous hourglass empties, he leans back with a satisfied smirk after double checking each of his answers. Quite a few students throw glances at Harry's three and a half rolls worth of filled parchment laid out across his desk.

"Another morning, another written examination finished," says Dumbledore, summoning the answer sheets which soon arrange themselves alphabetically on the staff table. "Now then, let us revitalise and refresh ourselves by filling our bellies!"

For once, Harry sits as calm as he's yet been in lunch during the O.W.L. period. Looking around, he grins at the many fifth-years so furiously cramming in their spells and counterspells in preparation for today's practical.

"How can you be so calm?" asks Hermione, sitting right beside him.

"How can you be so pretty?" he responds.

Seated opposite Harry is Ginny, who gapes at him with an incredulous expression. "You're really not stressed in the least, huh?"

"Do I look stressed?" Harry stretches out and yawns in a deliberately exaggerated manner. "Payback time! Gonna be a nuisance to Nott and his rot."

"Wha—" Ron, seated on Harry's left, observes the latter standing up as he walks across the aisle towards the friendly seventh-year Slytherins.

"I can tell you're not worried at all about your Defence O.W.L., Harry," says Yasmin, casually reading over her Potions textbook. "They should automatically pass you, though, given your efforts against You-Know-Who."

Harry glances left to spot some annoyed fifth-year Slytherins as he replies. "That's what I always say!"

"Get lost, Potter, you're interrupting our studies with your annoying voice!" shouts Nott, seated quite a ways down the table.

"Go study somewhere else then," says Harry, gesturing a middle finger to Nott before approaching Pansy's group at the right end of the Slytherin table. "How's my best friends doing?"

Tracey, Millicent, and Sally-Anne greet him with a nod while still engrossed in their textbooks. Meanwhile, Pansy recites her incantations with shut eyes as Daphne twirls her wrist throughout their Hex deflection revision.

"Alright, let me not disturb my darling buddies," mutters Harry, before he turns around to walk past Yasmin's group. "Best of luck to you all!"

"Shut up, Potter," groans Zabini nearby. "Why can't he _ever_ keep quiet?"

After lunch comes Harry's much anticipated Defence Against the Dark Arts practical, and he therefore sits smiling in the chamber beside the Great Hall. Although many students are far too preoccupied in their revision to bother Harry, some (namely Malfoy's lot) don't take too kindly to his confidence.

"Are you getting paid to annoy us or something?" asks Nott. "Because every damn day you find some irritating thing to do."

"Shhh! People are trying to study in here," mutters Harry. "You'd better keep silent before we all use you guys for our spells practice."

When Hermione stands up to leave with her group, Harry gives her a smile and blows yet another kiss.

"Yuck! Disgusting," mutters Goyle.

"Your existence is disgusting," quips Harry.

By the time his name is called, he once again exits with Perks, Rivers, and Roper as they head for the Great Hall. This time, Harry is examined by the much aged and bald Professor Tofty. Over the next twenty minutes, he successfully performs all the requested counter-jinxes and defensive spells (which includes banishing a boggart, deflecting the examiner's Hexes, etc). Some are done verbally while others are a achieved with little more than a smile.

"Oh, bravo, Mister Potter, bravo!" says an applauding Professor Tofty, loud enough for the surrounding students to look Harry's way. In addition to this, the latter can't help but remain smiling at the pleased expressions coming from Lupin, Moody, and Tonks standing at the double doors. "I've been told that it's your ambition to become an Auror, correct?"

"Certainly, Professor!" says Harry (while throwing a scathing look at Malfoy and Nott). "Looking back, these spells were quite useful against Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters under his command."

Tofty leans forward most eagerly, while the double doors creek open as Sirius sneaks a peak at his godson's progress.

"I have heard that you are capable of producing a Patronus, yes?" asks Tofty.

Harry seizes an opportunity to strengthen his friendships, while looking good in the process. "Yes, but I'm not the only one..."

"Did I just hear Patronus?" asks Ron, clearly desperate to up his marks, "I can do one too, Professor." Then he looks to his examiner. "Can I show you, ma'am?"

Professor Marchbanks looks around at the dozen fifth-years standing about. "Any one of you is welcome to attempt a Patronus for bonus points. Let's have at it then."

" _Expecto Patronum_!"

Harry can barely hide his grin as Pansy, Padma, Parvati, Sally-Anne, and Ron release their corporeal Patronuses. Now the room glows with a raven, pheasant, peacock, grizzly bear, and Jack Russell terrier unleashed from their respective casters. The look of sheer disdain coming from Malfoy and Nott fuels Harry's joy, and he swiftly releases his Death Adder which slithers in the air above.

"Magnificent, Mister Potter!" says an exuberant Professor Tofty. "And I suppose some of your classmates will appreciate a few extra marks as well?"

"Six students out of twelve?" asks another male examiner, "Surely that speaks to the standard of work put in by our trio of Professors over there? Simply remarkable!"

"With all due respect, sir," says Malfoy bitterly, "We're dealing with just a few extra marks, correct?"

"It could be the difference between an Acceptable and Exceeds Expectations for some," mutters Harry in response, before raising his voice upon spotting another opportunity. "These are dangerous times we live in, after all, and Defence Against the Dark Arts would be as vital a subject as they come. One could be attacked anytime and anywhere out there... even if one thinks they're safe."

"That is true," says Professor Tofty, "Much like the last time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was active."

"Are we finished with our practical exam yet, ma'am?" asks Nott, speaking to his examiner who's more focused on Harry's little speech anyway.

"If you were to be duelling, then a decent _Protego_ "—Harry demonstrates his Shield Charm yet again—"could suffice, yes? But if you suspect that your attention might be divided, then"—He walks in a wide circle while muttering _Protego Totalum_ around a giggling Pansy and the Patils—"this might help."

Minutes later, the exam concludes with a dozen fifth-years exiting the Great Hall. After Harry sneaks a glance at Professor Tofty hastily writing additional notes on his score sheet, he spots the Patils standing before a surprised trio of Lupin, Moody, and Tonks near the marble staircase.

"Since when have you two finally managed corporeal Patronuses?" asks Tonks. "Last time we checked, you were still incorporeal by the last lesson, like many in the class."

"We put in practice after practice after practice," says Padma, "Just in case we'll need it in the future."

"We made you three look good in front of the examiners, right?" asks Parvati.

"Forget about us," says Moody, "What's important is being able to defend yourselves. But you need to keep on practicing, because summoning a Patronus in the presence of a Dementor is far different than in an exam room, as Potter would know."

"Regardless," says Lupin, "I'm still most impressed by this class. Well done to you all!"

Harry sees the smile on Lupin's face and feels that it was all worth it. Even better is the proud expression coming from Sirius, as the latter descends the marble staircase.

"Way to put on a show and kick exam arse, little James!"

"Shouldn't you be policing the perimeter now?" asks Harry, giggling at his obvious Muggle terminology.

"Given how Tofty's marking you, I might as well go home and let you assist the Aurors," says Sirius. "Uh, actually... I'd rather stay away from home for a good while, yeah. So, what's on the agenda for you now?"

There's only one option on Harry's mind at this moment, and he immediately smiles. "Study of Ancient Runes."

"But you don't do tha— oh, I see..." Sirius pats him on the shoulder before whispering. "Don't let that one slip away; Hermione's a real gem of a girl."

"I've had like five years to appreciate that, yes. But so are Pansy and Fleur..." replies Harry, as he stands at the base of the marble staircase.

"Could I borrow your Map quickly?" asks Sirius, "Just feel like using it while walking near the perimeter walls."

"It's still your Map, Sirius; there's no need to even ask."

"Nonsense," says a smiling Sirius, "You're its rightful owner now."

As Harry hands over the concealed Marauder's Map, Lupin spots it while climbing the staircase. "Padfoot, you old dog! Who are you hoping to see on there? Voldemort himself?"

"Hey, I solemnly swear that I'm up to some good now," says Sirius, tucking the folded blank parchment into his pocket. "After that incident at the Quidditch final... Let's just say that I'll be checking every single mapped space in this castle."

"Nice excuse to spy on us all, eh?" Lupin shakes his finger accusingly at Sirius. "You know the school's enchantments have been well fortified already. Anyway, where are you off to now, Harry? Taking some well-deserved rest after that brilliant performance today?"

"He's obviously off to comfort his darling in the library," says Sirius, "Don't worry; if I spot yours and Hermione's dots extremely close... I'll just assume you're sitting near each other or something, right?"

Harry makes haste to the second floor where he comes across Pansy en route to the library. As expected, she immediately gives a toothy smile upon spotting him headed her way.

"Flashing those perfect pearly whites at me, huh? Are you heading to the library as well?" asks Harry.

Pansy stands with her hands behind her back while tilting up her head. "Yes, my darling, I certainly am! But I suppose you deserve a little thank you for today... here you go." She wraps her arms around Harry's back while giving him a quick, but firm, kiss. "You're so lovely."

"Yes, yes, you're only happy and nice because I organized an opportunity for bonus points," says Harry, before getting punched on the shoulder. "Ow!"

"Don't say that! Fine, Potter, I guess I'll be mean and cruel towards you—"

"No! I prefer my lovely darling," says Harry, "A happy Pansy makes me a happy boy."

Pansy rolls her eyes as she grabs Harry by the arm. "So, are you planning on studying for Monday's Potions with me? Or are you off to snuggle with Runes-head Granger?"

"Tough choice, Pansy; that's not fair."

"Split your time, boy," says Pansy, checking her watch. "Lemme see...two hours until dinner. Why not do one for Granger and the other in search of your beloved Frenchwoman?"

"And what about you?"

They soon reach the library entrance where Pansy holds Harry's hand upon entering the huge, labyrinthine complex. "I'll have you all to myself once you're back home. No sense in having those green-lined robes walking around Gryffindor Tower for too long, hmm?"

"You can play with my 'Gryffindor Tower' when I'm back in the dungeons," says Harry, feeling a fuzzy warmth as Pansy snorts with laughter beside him.

"I saw that euphemism coming a mile away. How about you go keep your danger Granger company while I revise some Potions?" asks Pansy, leaving Harry to head deeper into the library. As usual, he finds Hermione hunched over her textbooks at a lone corner desk.

"My gosh, Hermione, why are you torturing yourself like this?" Harry shakes his head while Transfiguring a nearby chair into a pillow. "Sure, ignore me for those books, but I'm not gonna just let you sit here so uncomfortably."

Hermione covers her ears with her hands (for silence) as the pillow is comfortably slipped behind her back.

"I think I'm just going to read some Potions while you're filling your head with random symbols..." says Harry, sitting against a wall beside his studious girl.

Both students study in near silence over the next two hours, and with identical expressions of concentration. For Harry, it's Potions coming up on Monday while Hermione prepares for Study of Ancient Runes tomorrow. Finally, after over 100 minutes of near silence, Hermione turns to look at Harry while whispering:

"Oh, this is just so stressful! I keep thinking that I've got the whole translation done, but then there are always those few ones giving me trouble."

Harry feigns a yawn while grinning. "Yeah, well, you're the one that wanted to do all these classes. Glad you saw sense and dropped some subjects back then."

"Runes are important!" snaps Hermione, although trying to keep her voice as hushed as possible. "One day, you might need my help with translation... and then what, smart-mouth?"

"And then I call my friendly neighbourhood bookworm who's always on point," replies Harry, flashing a slight smile while turning a page in his Potions textbook. "Maybe I should brew you a Calming Draught, since it would be good practice as well."

"That's very kind of you, Harry, but I'm fine. Perfectly fine, thanks. Not a worry in the world, nope."

"Being a stressful Granger puts oneself in danger," says Harry. "What? No comeback with my surname?"

"Hmph, I don't have time for childishness!" Hermione gets right back into her studies, even as dinner's well underway.

"At this rate, we'll have to head to the kitchen for our meal," says Harry, moaning as his stomach rumbles rather loudly in the silence. "What happened to not overusing House Elves, huh? Where's your S.P.E.W. madness?"

"Please stop disrupting my studies, Harry."

He leans back against the wall and sighs. "Yes, Mistress Granger."

Friday morning sees many fifth-years either lounging about or enjoying the warm summer's day outside. But for the few who've taken Study of Ancient Runes, such as Hermione, it's a morning spent scribbling away in the Great Hall. Meanwhile, Harry opts to spend a few hours before lunch walking beside Fleur during her exterior patrol. They chat all manner of things ranging from serious to simply humorous, including:

"I theenk you are like zat little ball in zose machine games ze Muggles play. I forgot what it is called... but it is ze one where ze Muggles smash buttons to stop a ball from falling down. Zey must keep 'itting it around and let it bang into stuff, while keeping it from falling past ze two arms stuff at ze bottom of ze machine."

"The what now?" Harry scratches the back of his hair while stopping near the Stone Circle area of the grounds. After a few minutes of thought, he now feigns an offended expression. "Oh, now I get it... you're talking about a pinball machine, right?"

"Yes, zat is it! Ze way you go around between ze Parkinson and Granger girls, as well as myself, is like a peenball in ze machine."

"Oh ha-ha, Fleur, you're so funny," says Harry, "Is that how you see me now? Okay then..."

"Eet is just a joke, because we need laughter in zese terreeble times indeed. Uzzerwise, it is far too easy to become sad or, as zey say, _sheet your pants in fear_." She smiles as Harry roars with laughter at her choice of words. "Yes, eet is very funny, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and you've finally used a contraction in your English!" says Harry, sitting on a flat rock while Fleur stands looking down at him.

"Cute, 'Arry, but I 'ave used zem before... a leetle, yes. Enough sheet talk, I want to know if you feel completely ready for Monday's examination?"

"I think I am, yes."

"Good, so now you can spend ze early afternoon with me before I must walk around 'Ogsmeade. Actually, perhaps I should spend ze lunch hour with you?"

"Oh yes, definitely! Just like the old days of the Tournament," says an excited Harry.

"'Old days', my arse," scoffs Fleur, "Eet was only last school year, silly. Come, we can sit together at ze Slytherin table."

"Sit together or... 'sheet' together? Hahaha—Hey!" Harry rubs his shoulder after it gets smacked by Fleur.

"Deesgusting, Monsieur!"

"You're the one who said we need jokes these days," says Harry as he stands up.

"Zat joke just choked, you naughty bloke," replies Fleur haughtily.

"Okay, seems like you've learnt one too many English words..." Harry feels a rush of soothing warmth while standing right before a grinning Fleur. _Oh man, there's THAT smile..._

Lunch hour is spent just as they've planned, and neither gives a damn about the hostile looks coming from further down the Slytherin table. In fact, Harry places his right elbow on the table while gesturing a middle finger towards Nott's group (who are seated beside the unfriendly seventh-years). But there's never a shortage of friendly faces for Harry, including Yasmin who speaks:

"I think the two of you are absolutely lovely together. Be sure to take care of that young lad, Fleur. And don't do anything that might make Miss Parkinson jealous..."

"Hey!" yells Pansy, seated to Harry's left. "As if I'd ever get jealous over these two."—She laughs softly behind her hand—"If Harry's happy, then I'm happy; it's as simple as that."

"I love you, Pansy."

"I love you, Harry."

Fleur grins as she leans in to join the conversation. "Can I say zat I love you both?"

"What the flip?" asks a comically confused Daphne, sitting opposite the trio. "So darn cheesy; are you three high on Love Potions or something?"

"Oh just leave them," says Sally-Anne, stirring her bowl of yoghurt. But all is not well at this Slytherin table...

"They're probably mocking your Veela ancestry for the umpteenth time," mutters Harry, looking past Fleur to see Malfoy and some seventh-years sniggering at her.

"What number is umpteenth?" asks Fleur, whose innocent curiosity barely quells Harry's growing anger.

"I can't believe they keep going on and on and on"—He bangs his fist on the table while speaking—" with the same attitude and foul jokes! Look at that Nott piece of shit's annoying face—"

"'Arry, calm yourself. I do not, and never really did, care about ze insults towards my beautiful 'eritage. Besides, zose wanker boys must talk last about family... At least my father doesn't 'ave to pees and sheet in a jail cell where uzzers can see!" Fleur groans while stabbing her fork into a chicken drumstick. "Dirtbag blood-purity extremist PIGS."

Harry gasps then laughs. "That's what I'm talking about, yeah! You're so pretty when you're angry, Fleur."

"Are you seriously getting a hard-on from seeing her upset? That gives a new definition to 'raging boner'," says an amused Tracey.

"No sense in getting worked up over zose stupid idiots," says Fleur, relaxing her furious scowl. "So, 'Arry, I theenk you should talk to your Granger-girl after lunch. Ancient Runes does not 'ave a practical, as far as I can remember. But ze Granger does look a leetle upset now, zough." Fleur directs Harry's attention to a fuming Hermione shoving food into her mouth while seated across the aisle at the Gryffindor table,.

"I'll check up on her later, thanks," says Harry, while preparing himself for a barrage of examination complaints... And they certainly do bombard him as he later approaches Hermione on the lawns outside the castle. "How'd the exam go, Mugglebun?"

"I can't believe that I mistranslated that one... ARGH! HOW COULD I GET IT WRONG? HOW COULD I—"

"My God! It's just one symbol," says Harry, instantly regretting these words as Hermione stomps towards him.

"ONE COULD BE THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A PASS AND A FAIL, SO SHUT UP!"

Harry dips his head in a deliberately submissive manner that partially quells Hermione's fury. "Let it out before you spontaneously combust, angry Granger. Here, take a shot at my shoulder if it'll make you feel-"

_THUD!_

"DAMN! You hit like a lunatic troll!" He desperately rubs his shoulder after taking one hell of a punch from Hermione, who suddenly grins quite guiltily.

"Hehe, that felt good," she says, "Oh please! Stop acting so dramatic; you've taken Bludger hits before and soldiered on."

"Look who's talking about dramatic," replies Harry, walking across the lush expanse of lawn where Madam Hooch usually conducts her Flying Lessons. "You get one damn answer wrong and you act as if the world's gonna end."

Whether she's picked up on Pansy's mannerisms or not, Harry's unsure. But he now sees Hermione place her hands behind her back while titling her head. "Hmph, don't give me lectures on subjects which you don't do; oh no, sir! Speak to me when you take up Runes, and then you'll see how easy it is to make a mistake."

"Yeah, well, it's too late and I'm not getting any younger," says Harry, mimicking Hermione's haughty pose with his nose in the air. "Tilt your pretty face any higher and you run the risk of getting owl crap on it. And I'm not talking about the exams. Now, will you quit stomping around like an angry Hippogriff and come join me for Potions? Although I do understand if you're a bit knackered after all that writing—"

"No... I mean yes! Potions it is, Mister Potter! I'm not taking any chances with not getting an Outstanding. We've both got to get O's or else Professor Snape won't let us into his N.E.W.T. classes," says Hermione, "That means we need to get over eighty percent correct... _eighty percent_...and in an O.W.L exam, no less! I have faith but... it looks like Ron most likely won't be with us in Potions next year." Her expression drops quite a bit, especially as Harry knows just how much Hermione values her few friends.

"I know how the grade system works, thanks," says a sighing Harry.

"Could you tutor Ron over the weekend? It'll up his marks, right?"

"Perhaps, yeah, but we're talking Outstanding-level here, Hermione. I really don't recall Ronald ever getting an O in anything... especially with regards to Potions. Truth be told, he is kinda lazy in some ways, and especially when he prefers his Wizard's Chess or Gobstones over revision."

Hermione stops walking as they reach the perimeter wall of the castle grounds. "Harry James Potter—"

 _Oh crap, it's strictly full name again_ , he thinks, while Hermione's stern tone persists.

"—you are going to take Ron down to the dungeons or up to the Room of Requirement for revision. Stun, drag, or kidnap him if you must!"

"Wait, what? I think I'll just politely ask him, yeah."

This is exactly what Harry does throughout the weekend by convincing Ron to join him in Potions studies. Sure, his brewing skills may be above Ron's, but he tries to improve on the Acceptable-level work which Ron displays in the Room of Requirement. But even Harry can't keep them both studying for as long as Hermione would prefer.

Then, after two days of three hour study sessions each, Monday arrives to bring the dreaded Potions O.W.L. As usual, the written examination begins at half past nine in the Great Hall, and everyone frowns while reading their question papers. This includes Harry, who again inwardly thanks Hermione for forcing him to spend his Room of Requirement days studying.

" _Describe the first part of brewing a Cure for Boils, in accordance to the book: Magical Drafts and Potions_."

 _Snape's gonna mock me forever if I don't get an O_ , thinks Harry, while eventually listing the six initial steps of brewing this potion.

" _What precaution must be taken when brewing the above-mentioned potion?_ "

Harry grins slyly while glancing to the far left at Neville, who once added the porcupine quills before removing his cauldron from its fire back in first year. Moving on, Harry reads the following question:

" _Name and describe the potion which contains the following six steps in the first part of its brewing:_

_1) Add 2 drops of Lethe River water to the cauldron_

_2) Gently heat for 20 seconds_

_3) Add 2 Valerian sprigs to the cauldron_

_4) Stir clockwise x3_

_5) Wave your wand_

_6) Leave to brew, then return in 45-60 minutes._ "

Harry recalls Pansy constantly quoting "Keywords, keywords, keywords!" to herself throughout her Potions studies. Sure enough, he scans the lengthy question and picks out 'Lethe River water' and 'Valerian sprigs' as his keywords.

" _The Forgetfulness Potion. Causes a degree of memory loss (subject to brewing quality) in the drinker_." He writes in response to the lengthy question before moving on.

" _Provide three beneficial uses of the Girding Potion, as well the steps required for its brewing_."

Thankfully, Harry had just brewed this potion yesterday with Ron. Although he's unsure of the precise method required, he describes its thirteen steps in as much detail as he can recall. But there's no sense in lamenting partial answers, and Harry therefore moves on with his paper. Whatever disappointment lingers after each response swiftly fades as Harry eventually sees just what he's hoped for:

" _Which potion affects the physical form on average of ten minutes to twelve hours per dose? In addition, provide a description of its effects and potential methods of counteracting this potion. Bonus points may be awarded for answers not strictly related to the subject of Potions. [40 Marks]_ "

"Yeah boy!" whispers Harry quite loudly, while triumphantly smacking the desk with his hand. Then he abruptly quietens as Dumbledore looks at him with a curious expression, and some students glance his way. This includes Daphne, who's seated near Harry's left and with her spare quill tucked behind her ear.

Given his constant brewing of Polyjuice throughout most of this year, Harry has absolutely no problem answering this question. In addition, he describes quite a few potential ways (although omitting his Marauder's Map) of uncovering a Polyjuiced imposter. Over a few dozen questions later, Harry finally drops his quill and double checks his work as the hourglass empties. He then exits the Great Hall with a slight smile that aggravates his hostile classmates, especially Malfoy's group (yet again).

"Why are you smiling, Potter?" asks Zabini.

"Because he knows he's done good," says Daphne, putting herself between Harry and the boys in the Entrance Hall. "Why don't you lot rather prepare for this afternoon instead of doing the same bullying over and over and over and over and over again?"

"Yeah, just piss off!" adds Tracey, while Millicent cracks her knuckles for a fight.

"She don't scare us," mutters a snarling Goyle, standing beside Crabbe as they flank Malfoy (as always).

"Let's fight!" says Crabbe, yanking his wand from his pocket. "You tray-tors are all on Potter's side, the Dark Lord's gonna get 'im one day."

"Voldemort can't touch me," sneers Harry, drawing his wand even with many students trying to quell the tensions.

"He's gonna kill you someday, Potter," says Goyle in his usual grunting voice. "You gonna die because you weak."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm soooo scared of Voldemort killing me. Ooooh, look at me, I'm gonna die," mocks Harry, as he now takes aim at Malfoy's brutes. "You wanna duel? Come on."

"Hey, settle down!" says Malfoy to Crabbe and Goyle. "Not in the O.W.L.s, boys; not in the O.W.L.s..."

"You think you strong, Potter? You not as strong as the Dark Lord," says a fuming Crabbe. "He will get you."

Professor McGonagall soon steps into the Entrance Hall and immediately spots the hostilities. "What in Heaven's name is going on here?"

"Crabbe and Goyle are behaving like a _babbling, bumbling, band of baboons_ , Professor!" says Lavender Brown nearby, causing much sniggering.

"That's hilarious, Lavender!" says a laughing Harry. "Brilliant bunch of words indeed."

"It's actually Professor McGonagall's joke," whispers Hermione in Harry's ear. "She said it when we were preparing for our Yule Ball dance."

"Oh..." Harry shoves his wand in his pocket and makes a pleading gesture to McGonagall. "They were provoking me by saying Voldemort is going to kill me, ma'am."

"I beg your pardon?" McGonagall's face turns a slight shade of angry red as she lets loose on Malfoy's group. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS THOSE WORDS ARE? AND IN THESE TIMES, NO LESS!" She then looks at Harry. "My apologies, Potter..." Then turns to glare at Malfoy's group again. "SUCH UTTERLY DISGUSTING, THOUGHTLESS... BRAINLESS THREATS MEANS IT'LL BE 40 POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN!"

"Oh shit," mutters Harry beneath his breath, while looking to the right as Slytherin's hourglass loses a fair bit of emeralds.

"Guess you'll have to kiss arse twice as much now, Harry," whispers a smirking Hermione.

"Get inside, all of you!" snaps McGonagall to the crowd. "Professor Dumbledore has finished rearranging the Great Hall for lunch, I presume. Crabbe and Goyle, I'll be expecting you in detention this evening."

As Harry enters the Great Hall, he pats Lavender on the back for her defence. "Thanks."

"No problem, but I doubt it'll make a difference, though. They're dumb enough even if they had this evening to study," she says, while approaching the Gryffindor table as Harry returns to Pansy's group. No sooner does he sit down than the girls discuss McGonagall's response.

"At least they got detention, right?" asks Millicent. "To be honest, I'm kinda glad things didn't devolve into Muggle duelling... it wouldn't be the same for me as before."

"Yeah, you're not exactly so big and fat anymore," says Sally-Anne.

Millicent gasps but hardly seems offended. "Wow, straight to the point, eh?"

"What's your opinion on Professor McGonagall's choice of punishment, Harry?" asks Pansy, though she immediately regrets it upon watching Harry shove ice-cream into his mouth.

"Jrghsssccce-uuuuh."

"What the bloody hell is he saying?" Swallow first, damnit!" scolds Daphne. "He so got that from you, Pansy."

"Me?" Pansy laughs and shakes her head so much that her bangs swish side-to-side. "Nah, he got that from his fat Muggle uncle. Now that you've actually swallowed your dessert, Harry, answer my earlier question. What do you think? Was it fair enough?"

Grinning wickedly while holding his spoon, Harry savours the thought of Crabbe and Goyle in detention tonight. "Justice... Haaaa!"

"You're a strange boy," says Tracey, while seeing the exaggerated expression of glee on Harry's face. "Strange indeed."

All jokes and laughter aside, lunch hour comes to an end as the Potions practical arrives. But instead of the dark and gloomy classroom which they're accustomed to, the fifth-years are seated at various workstations throughout the Great Hall. And with Snape absent from proceedings, Harry spots the many looks of slight relief shown by his classmates.

Professor Marchbanks, standing before the many rows of workstations, now writes on a large blackboard while speaking. "As you can all see, you've each been given two cauldrons for your practical O.W.L. examination. They are of standardised size and thickness, as well as being of brass design and without any helpful additions such as self-stirring, etc. The Ministry has opted against using pewter cauldrons as they are far too slow, and copper ones would be too advantageous for an O.W.L. So we're right in the middle with brass which brews at a medium speed, as you all should know."

She turns to address the group of forty fifth-years spread across the Great Hall.

"Your overall mark will be split as follows: 50/25/25. Half for the written section, and the other half being made up of these two potions you'll be brewing this afternoon. As a precaution, you may only complete one at a time, and not attempt both simultaneously, understand?"

The fifth-years murmur and nod in agreement.

"Good, you will have three hours to prepare your potions so... good luck," says Marchbanks, adjusting an hourglass which she places on the staff table.

Looking ahead, Harry reads the magically enlarged words of _WIT-SHARPENING POTION_ and _INVIGORATION DRAUGHT_.

Instead of textbooks on their desks, the students are merely given lists of instructions to follow. Harry decides upon getting through his Invigoration Draught first before moving on to the Wit-Sharpening Potion, which Snape had taught them back in fourth year. By four o'clock, the students exit the Great Hall in mixed spirits, and with many now highly unsure of having made an Outstanding grade. However, he spots an abrupt change in his girls' demeanour which confuses him.

"Okay, Pansy,  _enough is enough_!" scolds Tracey, as they wait in the Entrance Hall for the Great Hall to be reorganised. "This is truly unacceptable, even if we were too preoccupied by the O.W.L. exams."

"Why are you scolding me?" asks a shocked Pansy. "I didn't do anything wrong, Tracey, really."

"Oh yes you have," she says, narrowing her eyes while scowling at her friend. "How could you put it off for so long this year?"

"Are you alright upstairs?" asks Pansy, "What are you talking about? Put what off?"

"Your birthday!"

Tracey's words elicit a gasp from Pansy, and the latter buries her face in her hands while groaning. "Oh gosh! How could I forget? Honestly, I even told mom not to send me anything while I'm knee-deep in studies. No wonder there's been no sign of it being my birthday..."

"You told everyone— who wanted to wish you—not to wish you," says Daphne, standing beside Pansy near the House hourglasses. "Do you need a detailed date reminder? Okay, so the 6th was last Sunday; you know, the one right before our Charms O.W.L.? And here we are on Monday, the 14th, without having so much as even wished you, Pansy."

"Alright, fine," says Pansy, "You have my permission to celebrate my belated birthday this evening, okay? No need for presents, though, really."

"Are you listening, Harry?" asks Tracey, "Pansy has a belated birthday that needs to be celebrated!"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" says Harry, bowing before the giggling girls. "Wait, what? Are you sure about no presents?"

"I don't even know what I want. So, it's better to just ditch the presents outright than make me pretend to like something I don't," says Pansy. "But if you do want to give me a gift, then spend this evening in our common room, baby Potter."

"Yes, my boss. You're my Queen of Slytherin," says Harry, before spending an hour of dinner at the Gryffindor table. From here, he descends the spiralling staircase (off a corridor near the Entrance Hall) to enter the dungeons where he follows Pansy into the Slytherin common room.

"Ta-da! Our boy is back for an evening," she says, while beaming with a smile.

"Oh hell no," mutters a few seventh-year boys.

"Oh hell yes!" retorts Head Girl Yasmin, drawing her wand and threatening anyone who provokes Harry.

"I'd like to wish a happy belated birthday to my—"

"We don't give a crap about you and whoever's birthday!" says a jeering seventh-year girl. "Get lost, Potter."

"Piss off, slut," says Harry, before carrying on. "I'd like to wish a happy belated birthday to my very spec—" He swiftly ducks the incoming Hex sent by the furious seventh-year girl.

"LET HIM SPEAK!" yells Yasmin, which only escalates the tensions into full-on fighting... yet again.

"The belated birthday girl will not stand for this," says a livid Pansy, "I'm sick and tired of seeing and hearing the same crap over and over again! GO—TO—HELL, YOU—BUTTHURT— _PIGS_."

"The only pig here is Plotter!" retorts Vaisey.

"Yeah, I'm with Michael on this," says Nott. "Potter's a pig."

"Your dad's a pig," says Harry. "Now he's rolling in the mud with all the other man-pigs such as Avery, Dolohov, Rabastan, Rodolphus... Lucius, etc.  _Oink oink_!"

"DON'T YOU CALL MY FATHER THAT, POTTER!" shouts Malfoy as the tensions reach breaking point.

Spells of all kinds go flying across the common room in what is yet another battlefield of an evening. Once again, Harry gets more than half on his side while the majority of seventh-years link up with Malfoy and the rest. Red, blue, white and orange jets of spells blast into various barriers and physical objects across the room.

" _Expelliarmus_!" shouts Yasmin, catching one of her female classmates off-guard while Adrian Pucey, Miles Bletchley, and Cassius Warrington back the Head Girl up.

Elsewhere... Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott attempt to 'avenge' Crabbe and Goyle's detention by attacking Harry. But he's far too nimble with his Shield Charm which deflects the spells back at their casters.

"WE DON'T CARE ABOUT A GOLD-DIGGER'S BIRTHDAY, HAHAHA!" shouts Malfoy, backed up by Nott and Zabini.

"What did you just call Pansy?" asks Harry. "Say that again."

" _Gold-digger_ , Potter, that's what she is. See, boys, Parkinson's the type of girl you should outright avoi—AARGH!" Malfoy goes crash landing into a shelf of books by Harry's Knockback Jinx.

"CURSE THAT HALF-BLOOD FOOL!" shouts Dawson Fawley, as the seventh-year rallies his pals against Harry.

"That's what I think of Voldemort every day," says a laughing Harry, "Back me up, good Slytherins! Nobody ruins my Pansy's belated birthday joy."

In the midst of the chaos, Astoria Greengrass crawls behind a black leather couch, and a few upended tables, en route to the door. Then she shrieks as a sixth-year's spell narrowly misses her.

"You ain't snitching to Snape on us," says the sixth-year girl, before Daphne leaps over the couch with her wand drawn... and her expression far from its usual soft smile.

"Attacking my precious little sister, eh?" Daphne's eyes widen in fury as she hurls Curse after Hex after Curse at the cussing sixth-year girl who retaliates just as furiously. Fortunately, Harry casts a Shield Charm to protect his blonde buddy until Daphne gets in a Horn-Sprouting Hex on the sixth-year. "NOW YOU'LL MISS ALL YOUR CLASSES TOMORROW, COWARDLY BITCH!"

"Run, little third-year, run and get Professor Snape!" says Harry, shielding Astoria as she zips out the door and into the corridors outside.

Glasses shatter, tables flip over, chairs are blasted aside, and chessboards go flying with their pieces as the chaos escalates until the door bangs open. But most students are far too focused on their skirmish to notice their Head of House fuming in the doorway.

"You talk about my dad?" asks Nott, glaring at Harry from behind a table. "YOU'RE A SON OF A MUDBLOOD, POTTER; HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL, DIRTY-BLOOD?"

"PROUD!" shouts Harry, uncaring for Snape's presence as he shatter's Nott's cover with an  _Expulso_.

"ENOUGH!"

Although Snape's voice quells most of the fighting, Hayden Rowle fires one last stunner at Harry who deflects... accidentally towards Snape. But the latter instinctively deflects it towards Rowle which knocks the seventh-year out with his own spell.

"Professor, it was Potter that started all this—Ouch! Ouch! OUCH!" Nott can barely speak while being clobbered by a chair, which Snape has Charmed to repeatedly chase and whack him across the room. Now, the Potions Master turns to address a guilty-looking Yasmin.

"Write down the names of everyone that's responsible for this barbaric behaviour. They will serve detention every single evening right up until the penultimate day of this term..."

"Yes, sir!" says Yasmin.

"..and this mess had better be cleaned up within the next hour,  _understand_?"

"Of course, Professor!" replies Yasmin, before Snape turns on his heels and exits the room while slamming the door shut.

"ARGH, MAKE IT STOP! I CAN'T DISPEL THIS THING—OW!" Nott fires all his spells to no avail at the still-pursuing chair, which Harry gleefully shields with a  _Protego_  as it beats its target down.

Over the next half an hour, many Slytherins scramble to repair the common room, and Harry continues to defend the attacking piece of furniture.

"Stop this nonsense, Potter!" warns Malfoy, while setting a corner table straight.

"Professor Snape can't do this," says the horrified seventh-year girl who Harry's insulted earlier. "This is basically assault on a student! Negligent, malicious use of magic for corporeal punishm—"

"Oh shut up," says Harry, "If anyone asks, then I'll just say it was me that sent this awesome chair after Nott."

Meanwhile, a frowning Yasmin sits scribbling on a roll of parchment at a desk. "All you arseholes are in for it now. Why should I have punished you when the big Potions boss came and dished it out himself? Now you trashpits are gonna have a terrible end of year, oh yes indeed..."

"Whose names are you putting down on there?" asks a seventh-year boy. "It better not be mine."

"Or mine," adds a seventh-year girl.

"Nah, don't come strong-arm me here, you dirty pigs," says a seething Yasmin, "Nepotism at its absolute finest indeed, hehehe..."

Adrian Pucey sneaks a peek over Yasmin's shoulder before grinning. "None of the Head Girl's friends' names are on this list, hahaha! Not mine nor Miles nor Cassius nor Harry, etc. It's mostly all the idiots who sided with Fawley and friends. All in all, I count about 18 or so people here."

Hayden Rowle slams his fist on a nearby table at the far end of the room. "WHAT?"

"Face the music, you filthy haters," says a wickedly smiling Yasmin as she reads: " _Malfoy,_   _Nott,_   _Zabini,_   _Rowle,_   _Fawley,_   _Montague,_   _Vaisey_..." and the rest of the mix of sixth and seventh-years who've joined the skirmish against Harry. "Oh, and I don't think it needs to be said that that Prefect badge ain't yours anymore, Vaisey."

"Don't you  _dare_  strip away my status—"

"You've stripped it away yourself by constantly joining such vulgar fighting," says Warrington, while Montague threatens to knock him out. "Oh please, Graham, you're worthless."

"I'm not giving this Prefect badge up, no bloody way. My parents will kill me! N-Not literally, of course," says a trembling Vaisey, clutching at his chest. "Head Girl, you've joined in on plenty fights as well."

"Meh, whatever, I was defending Harry on most occasions," says Yasmin, now extending her hand. "Then it'll have to be Malfoy, perhaps? I need to make an example out of someone here..."

"I lost my father and I sure as hell am not losing my badge too!" says Malfoy, moving away from Vaisey.

"If none of you are willing to give up your badges, then I might be forced into making a totally outlandish decision here," says Yasmin.

"What? You taking our badges by force?" asks Malfoy.

"Oh no, I could easily have a chat with Professor Snape about revoking them." Yasmin now smiles a slight bit. "Did you really think us Head students and the staff haven't noticed what's been going on? You idiots are constantly attacking one student and have basically been bullying poor Harry all the fricken time!"

"He deserves it," scoffs Nott.

"Shut up; you're in for many detentions now anyway," says Yasmin, "My point is, there comes a time when truly: enough is enough. If all you hating snobs are going to constantly undermine our authority, as well as burden Professor Snape with coming in here for every damn fight... let's just say what goes around comes around."

"You're making no sense," says Montague, "Bah! Whatever, I've got studying to do anyway."

"Enjoy this last evening of freedom, Montague," replies Yasmin, "You're all in for a shocker tomorrow, and you brought it on yourselves with all this irritating, incessant fighting!"

Once the common room is finally cleared of most students, Harry stands between his girls and Yasmin as well. Naturally, he's confused at their smirks. "And now? What's with all these smug and haughty looks?"

"I'm sorry about your sister almost getting hurt, Daphne," says Pansy, "That really wasn't part of the plan."

"Hmph, I suppose I'll forgive you for that," says Daphne.

"Now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to have a nice little meeting with Professor Snape." Yasmin exits the common room with a smile as the girls surround the bemused Harry.

"Plan? What's going on?" he asks.

"We played them at their own game," says a gleeful Pansy, putting on her signature toothy smile. "Ever since last year, Malfoy and the rest constantly aggroed on you at will. So, we girls thought to use this against them. Why do you think we didn't mind you staying away from our common room? The bad Slytherins got used to your absence, and they responded rather dramatically this evening, hahaha! Idiots."

"I still don't understand what part of this whole chaotic mess was 'planned'," admits Harry, scratching the back of his hair in confusion.

"The part that's surely destined to come, oh tragic bullied Chosen One," says Sally-Anne, "But only the five of us and Yasmin were in on it, though; nobody else was aware."

"You really think this'll work? It could... assuming the old man likes you enough to take up on Yasmin's suggestion, Harry," says Millicent.

"I still don't get it," says a shrugging Harry.

"Oh, isn't he just adorable when he's confused?" asks Pansy, giggling as she fiddles with the chest area of Harry's robes. "I deliberately stalled my birthday stuff from the 6th until an opportunity like tonight arose. So, we brought you down here, withstood the anger and madness, then pestered Professor Snape by getting him to come witness yet  _another_  unnecessary fight at home."

"Poor little Astoria almost got hurt..." says Daphne, "Hopefully, this will actually work. We, including Yasmin, were thinking of baiting other Prefects into doing something to finally revoke their badges. Both Malfoy and Vaisey did exactly this by getting into yet  _another_  fight, even after Yasmin's reprimanded them so many times before. But I suppose she's changed plans at the last minute and opted for a merciful approach. Plan A was to snatch a badge, you see, but our Head Girl's doing things differently now. I guess she prefers to not place such a huge target on your head, Harry."

"I'm still utterly confused by your nonsensical rambling," says Harry.

"You're so smart, but it sometimes feels like we're talking to a brick wall; a handsome one, though," says Pansy, "Fine, I'll put it absolutely bluntly which kills the fun of being oh so cryptic. We can't stand you enduring all this stupid, irritating hostilities from others, Harry. So, there's only one sure-fire way of shielding you even better than a  _Protego_."

"What? You girls know some more potent defensive spells?"

"Oh my Go—" Pansy face-palms herself while sighing. "No, what I'm trying to say is that, well, it's time for my baby Potter to finally pin that well-deserved badge upon his chest!"

"And we're not talking about the Quidditch Captain one, either," says a grinning Tracey, "I just hope this all works..."

 


	35. To Seek a Badge

_Dumbledore's Office, Tuesday June 15th, 1996_ ,  _08h00._

"...so, that's what happened, sir," says Harry, sitting in a chair facing the Headmaster's desk as they both start their day on hot chocolate. Why he's made the effort of coming all the way up here, at this hour, to repeat what Dumbledore might already be aware of... only Harry knows.

"Quite a clever scheme, if I may say so myself," says Dumbledore, taking a sip from one of the mugs he's fetched from the kitchens earlier. "The Head Girl has given me a rather lengthy description of last night's events, and I'm well aware of this being the umpteenth time you've been harassed here."

"Oh it's bad, sir, very much so," admits Harry. "Things spiralled out of control ever since my name came out of the Goblet last year. By now, it feels like a fruitless effort to try and appeal to the hating ones in my House. Nearly every confrontation turns to some degree of hatred and violence."

Dumbledore adopts a thoughtful expression. "We cannot afford excess confrontations next year, Harry. You see, I am currently in the process of locating a very special guest whom I hope to recruit next year. He holds information of the utmost importance to our efforts against Lord Voldemort, but it may only be obtained voluntarily. Unfortunately, our guest has proven highly reluctant to share such crucial knowledge."

"But you're the main man, sir. There's nothing you can't do."

"No, Harry; next year, you'll be the 'main man' with regards to this task. I can think of no better person to entrust with obtaining such vital information in bringing down Lord Voldemort," says Dumbledore.

"How vital, sir?"

"Without it, we cannot win. It's as simple as that."

"Even more crucial than the prophecy was this year, sir?"

Dumbledore nods, and his seriously pensive expression shows Harry just how vital this task will be. "Now then, I believe the expression is to 'hit two birds with one stone', yes?"

"If you're trying to accomplish two objectives with one task, then yes it is, Professor."

"Good." Dumbledore stands up and opens his desk drawer in search of something. "Our guest has quite a  _history_  with Tom Riddle at Hogwarts, much like myself. Can you recall that time in third year when you stumbled upon Tom's medal in the trophy room?"

Harry nods while experiencing an eerie sinking feeling.

"My apologies for bringing this up again, but I must warn you that the similarities between yourself and Tom Riddle will be apparent to our guest from day one. I fear it might instil hesitancy around you, regardless of our guest's disposition towards favouring notable students. But we absolutely cannot fail this task, Harry; you will be  _far_  more effective and useful about it than I am. Therefore, the first step will be proving just how different you are to Tom. You will have to convince our guest, in whichever noble way you can think of, to see past the identical exterior."

"Are we really that similar, sir?"

"You're both Half-Bloods from Muggle backgrounds who've landed in Slytherin. You've both accomplished great things thus far in school, and have both been admired by many a professor. Although Tom's circle of friends was more hand-picked and less noble, you do have a presence quite similar to his."

"Great, so I'll just drop all my grades and social skills to become a loner with no life," says Harry, causing Dumbledore to chuckle.

"That will hardly be necessary. In fact, we shall now add to the similarities between Tom and yourself..." Dumbledore slides a brown envelope across his table. "I've hoped for a way of giving this to you without arousing unwanted suspicion."

After opening the envelope, Harry's heart races as he withdraws a silver badge adorned with a 'P'. One tap of Dumbledore's wand has the background turn a shade of emerald to indicate Slytherin House.

"There will undoubtedly be some degree of envy and resentment regarding this, but I trust you can handle it? Not only do I feel that you've matured enough to become a Prefect, but we'll both require that you present an initial exterior identical to Tom's. Our guest is no fool, and he might suspect something behind there being an extra Slytherin Prefect next year."

"Sounds like he'll think you've deliberately orchestrated this to gain his attention," says Harry, admiring the badge in his hand.

"Yes, I suppose he will," says a nodding Dumbledore, "My guesses have, usually, been good thus far." He now eyes Harry with some degree of appraisal, as if pondering whether to entrust him with more information at this stage. "Horace Slughorn is the name."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Our guest, I mean. But I must ask that you speak of this to no-one until next year." Dumbledore's expression conveys a stern warning as he speaks, "Unfortunately, I also cannot have you discussing this to anyone but Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley then, is that clear?"

"Of course, Professor."

"We both know that Voldemort is a skilled Legilimens, and I truly fear for the safety of your friends should even the tiniest hint of information seep through. Take something as simple as informing Miss Parkinson about needing to obtain Slughorn's information... I suspect that she might, unintentionally, be read by her mother who happens to be a decent Legilimens herself. Mrs. Parkinson is, without a doubt, currently faced with an immense amount of pressure these days. War tests loyalties, and Voldemort will not hesitate in exploiting family relations for his gain."

"What a manipulative old bastard Voldemort is," says a fuming Harry, while Dumbledore paces about the room.

"I'm not saying you ought to distrust your Slytherin friends, Harry. But, should the need arise to inform them, it'd be best to simply state that you're trying to get on Professor Slughorn's good side," says Dumbledore. "There will be get-togethers termed 'Slug Club' meetings where Horace collects his noteworthy students, usually for mutual gain in the long-term."

"Heh, then that's my ticket into this Professor Slughorn's good graces," says a thoughtful Harry, "Oh, I'll have him manipulated in no time..."

"Do exercise caution," warns a slightly fearful Dumbledore, "This is a task that will require extreme discretion, as the tiniest of slip-ups will place Horace Slughorn on full-alert. Defensive mode, shall we say?"

"By the way," says Harry, "is this Horace Slughorn going to take over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position?"

"Ah, now this presents a rather interesting dilemma," says Dumbledore, "Professor Slughorn was a brilliant Potions Master in his time, and still is. Meanwhile, Professor Snape continues to regularly apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position as I've instructed."

"But it's cursed."

"Exactly, Harry. I suspect that Voldemort reckons his Curse wouldn't affect a loyal follower, especially one with a Dark Mark. Severus, however, is not at all loyal to Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore abruptly stops his sentence right there.

"Oh, so it's a ruse to let Voldemort think you're blocking his loyal Death Eater all the time? Good idea, Professor."

"Except that next year, should Horace join us, Professor Snape will be expected to finally achieve his 'much desired subject'." Dumbledore sighs while stroking his beard. "That Curse is indeed powerful; the kind of Dark magic dealing with one's very soul itself. So long as Tom Riddle survives, the Defence Against the Dark Arts position will forever remain Cursed."

"And you can't let one of our current teachers continue, right?" asks Harry.

"From what I've discovered, Voldemort's Curse is most effective the longer its victim remains in the post. Small hassles creep up along the way, steadily worsening towards the end of each year. You might be wondering about Professors Lupin and Moody, correct? Well, your werewolf incident was a close-call which we've fortunately covered up. But I do fear for Remus' safety should he remain teaching. As for Professor Moody; he's taken every precaution and vigilant step available to potentially outsmart the Curse. However, they will only serve to worsen his already 'paranoid' demeanour, and this could someday distract him on the battlefield with fatal consequences."

"That Curse is conniving indeed," admits Harry, as Dumbledore nods in agreement. "Does that leave Tonks as our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for next year, sir?"

"She's already been present for roughly three months now," says Dumbledore. "I suspect that we might safely get up to six months worth of teaching from her next year. After that, well, there would be little choice but to vacate the post."

After counting on his fingers, Harry responds. "Then Tonks can stay from September to maybe... January?"

"Let us see what happens, but I cannot risk exposing Professor Snape to Voldemort's Curse," says Dumbledore.

"Understood, sir." Checking his watch, Harry sees that it's already nearing nine o'clock. "Thank you for the badge, truly. This means a lot to me even it's mainly to soften up our Slughorn man."

"Harry, you're as deserving of that badge as anyone could be. Best of luck in the exams; I hear Care of Magical Creatures usually focuses more on the practical aspect of the curriculum. But do not underestimate the written examination, even though it would be shorter than your other subjects."

After pinning the badge onto his shirt, beneath his robes, Harry hides it upon heading for breakfast. Then, at half past nine, the fifth-years of Hagrid's elective sit their written examination before finishing at 11am.

"Only an hour and a half worth of paper!" says Hermione, scowling as the fifth-years exit the Great Hall. "I suppose I'll just take this Outstanding and be done with it."

Malfoy's group once again scoffs at Hermione's words before Nott retorts. "The Mudblood's not taking the Half-Breed's subject next year? Almost makes us wanna withstand the oaf's presence next year, right, boys?"

"Shut your shithole of a mouth," warns Harry, standing against a wall beside the double doors. "You'd better not screw with a Prefect, or else risk even more detention, boy."

"Ha!" laughs Nott, while gesturing at Hermione. "Potter thinks his Prefect pal even cares for detention while she's so super absorbed in all her work. Newsflash, Pothead, your Mudblood only works this hard because she thinks it will compensate for her dirty blood—"

Ron immediately breaks away from his group nearby to approach and grab hold of Nott's robes. "What did you say?"

"Down, boy," sneers Malfoy, "Prefects don't assault their fellow students... Care to risk that badge and dishonour your already disgraceful family? If you don't take your Blood-Traitor hands off Theodore, then I'll put Scarhead on recommendation for detention."

"Bah! As if I'm even in the least scared," says Harry, grinning wickedly (which his girls recognise all too well) while hiding his Prefect badge. "You can't the hell touch me, daddy's pampered little boy. So, was your father touched yet behind bars—"

Malfoy draws his wand just as Harry does in response as the former speaks. "I'm sick and tired of hearing you poke fun at my father, Potter."

"I'm sick and tired of seeing your face, Malfoy," says Harry, causing a tense stand-off between two Slytherins ready for battle. Finally, to many a student's relief, Harry opts to step away while encouraging Ron to follow suit. "I'll get 'em later, no worries."

"Get who, Potter? Me?" retorts Nott, brushing off his robes as if cleaning it from dirt. "Go ahead and attack then, fool, I flippen dare you."

"Go play with your stupid excuse for a Pureblood father, Nott," says Harry, eliciting a frown from Zabini as the latter snarls.

"At least he has a father, unlike you. Theo never spent years trapped with useless things called Muggles, hahaha!"

The insult presents an opportunity which Harry refuses to miss. "Muggles aren't useless, bitch; they're perfectly capable of producing some real good things."

Nott and the boys cackle with laughter before Malfoy speaks. "Oh really, Pothead? Give one example of something supposedly great which the Muggles have done."

"Not 'supposedly'," says Harry, as he swiftly grabs a startled Hermione into a side-hug. "How about this great girl? Thank the Muggles for gifting us her presence."

"So overdramatic, as usual," whispers Hermione in Harry's ear, while Malfoy's group feigns vomiting gestures.

"Why are you guys so disgusted?" asks Ron, "Thinking about your no good fathers?"

"Your father's no good, Weasel. Is he still working from a broom closet or something?" asks Zabini.

"How about I put you on recommendation for detention?" retorts Ron, to which Lavender applauds.

"Do it, Ron! Dump his uptight arse in detention."

"You do him, and I do Pothead," warns Malfoy again. "I dare you, Weasel."

Eventually, lunch hour arrives followed by the Care of Magical Creatures practical taking place at 1pm. Instead of gathering in the chamber beside the Great Hall, Hagrid's fifth-years await in the breezy Entrance Courtyard outside. The weather may be pleasant, but Malfoy's group is certainly not.

"Excited over your Half-Breed's exam, Potter?" asks Nott.

"Would you idiots just leave him alone already? My God, you people are the epitome of annoying!" says Parvati, backed up by all of her roommates in addition to her twin.

"I think they miss being friends with Harry," says Fay Dunbar, to which Nott laughs.

"Hahaha! We were never this Half-Muggle idiot's friends! Get that into your thick troll skulls, Gryffindorks."

"I've been informed that you five are booked for detention right up until the second-last day of term," says Hermione, seated in the colonnade of the surrounding cloister. "Serves you right."

"Nobody asked your opinion," replies Zabini, "Go play with the Muggles like the trash you are. Or better yet, go find some Muggle way of fixing your god-awful excuse of hair, Granger."

"You mess with a Prefect, and now it's even more detention," says Harry, his heart racing with excitement while he still hides his badge.

"What? Oh, so you're saying Granger's gonna give my boys detention but is too afraid to speak up for herself?" asks Malfoy. "All she's good for is reading books thicker than her dirty mud-filled blood, hahahaha!"

"Good one, Draco!" cheers Nott, although he quickly readies his wand as Ron's group comes in to verbally retaliate.

"You're bloody lucky you're a Prefect, Malfoy," says Ron, "But I'll dump Nott in detention for the first Monday evening next year."

"Piss off, Muggle-worshipper," scoffs Malfoy, before glancing in Harry's direction. "Detention for you, Potter; no excuses."

"You can't put me in detention, pampered prick."

"Watch me," replies Malfoy, "Filch will be expecting you to clean the toilets tonight. Hold on, aren't you used to such degrading chores from your time with those dirty Muggles?"

"Nobody talks trash about my family," warns Harry, suddenly feeling a surge of anger at having the Dursleys insulted by  _Malfoy_ , of all people. "At least my uncle never went to jail for worshipping a hypocritical Dark Lord."

Soon, groups of students start leaving in fours while heading for their practical examination. Slowly, but surely, does a list at the courtyard's exit tick itself off as each student makes their way down the grassy slopes. Then, just as Nott's name is highlighted by the parchment, Harry stands up to briefly block him from leaving.

"The hell are you doing, Pothead? Get out my way so I can get that stupid Half-Breed filth's subject over and done with! No way I'm carrying this junk over to next year's level."

"Speaking of next year," says Harry, "You're getting another detention. Why? Because you're discriminating against and constantly insulting one of my favourite teachers."

"What do you mean 'detention'?" asks Zabini, sitting in a nearby corner opposite a curious Ron. "Is that hand-me-down excuse of a Prefect gonna dish it out to Theo? Ha! Fat chance, Weasel."

"I'm a Prefect too," says Pansy, "And so is Padma over there."

"Regardless of Hagrid's questionable teaching skills, you have absolutely no right to insult him based on his heritage, Nott," says a disgusted Padma, while pointing to her blue-and-bronze badge adorned with the letter P. But then she looks quite apologetically at Harry upon speaking. "I have a duty to perform, Harry, no hard feelings for your House Cup efforts? Three points from Slytherin, Nott."

"And detention," adds Harry, grinning smugly while clutching at his robes covering his shirt.

"What the hell are you talking about, Plotter? Only Prefect prats like Parkinson, Patil, or Weasel over there have that authority. You're just running your stupid overrated mouth while thinking you're special," says Nott, trying to manoeuvre his way past a defiant Harry. "Get out the damn way!"

"Ask nicely and show respec—"

The remaining nine students watch as Nott shoves Harry to the ground before cackling his way out the courtyard. "You had that coming a long time, Potter! But aren't you used to such Muggle-style abuse already?"

"YOU BITCH!" shrieks Pansy, drawing her wand (while Ron, the Patils, and Sally-Anne back her up) to take aim at Nott standing on the slopes.

"You're supposed to be a Prefect, Parkinson, so handle the situation appropriately," warns Zacharias Smith, standing beside a startled Sophie Roper.

With Dean Thomas quickly rushing to Harry's side, the only student outright in favour of Nott is Zabini, who draws his wand before grinning. "Great push, Theo! You clobbered that Chosen Loser right on target."

"Oh yes," applauds Harry quite sarcastically. "Well done,  _Theo_ , for assaulting not only a student... but one who's got THIS!" He unbuttons then yanks open the top of his robes to flash his emerald and silver Prefect's badge.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" says a gawking Ron, as Harry ignores the stunned expressions around him while addressing Nott.

"SURPRISE, NOTT THE ROT! Ahem, you just earned yourself a week's detention, effective come the 2nd of September. Yeeeeeah boy," Harry smirks while pinning the badge atop his robes where it belongs.

"Excuse me, what?" asks Smith, "Is this a prank? Is that perhaps some new bogus accessory made by Fred and George Weasley?"

"It's as real as it gets, Smith," replies Harry, while savouring the expression of sheer joy on Pansy's face. "Say hello to your new Prefect, effective since earlier today."

Sophie Roper steps forward, with narrowed eyes upon looking at Harry's badge. "But that's not possible unless... Who lost their Prefect status then?"

"Nobody," replies Harry, "There are three Slytherin Prefects now, one of whom is a piece of trash. Hint: that one's currently busy with exams."

Pansy sticks her fingers into her mouth to whistle rather loudly at Nott. "Why don't you come back here and have a look? Now you can't bully my boy any longer, scumbag! And tell all your hating friends that Harry's elevated above you wankers now."

But there's no time for dawdling as Nott hurries off with a speechless expression. Meanwhile, Parvati expresses her astonishment as well, albeit with far less hostility.

"I didn't know there can be another Prefect if need be..."

"' _If need be',_ my arse!" retorts a furious Zabini. "So that's it, huh? Is this the new level of low that our school has sunk to? Has the old man promoted you out of sympathy?"

"I'll have to agree with Zabini," admits a frowning Smith. "Just because you're bullied by your jerk Housemates doesn't provide authority to break the rules of our institution."

"Don't you  _ever_  insult Professor Dumbledore, Zabini," says Harry before addressing Smith. "What are you planning on doing then? Orchestrate your own bullying to make Prefect?"

"Hey, whoa, don't give 'em any ideas, Harry," says Dean Thomas. "Angry folks might just end up doing something that mental. Oh, um, congratulations; I think you deserve that badge no matter how many rules were broken to get it."

"That's right," says a smug Harry, "It's a good idea to suck up to your newest Prefect. So, besides Zabini and Smith, anyone else upset over my promotion?"

"I certainly am not!" declares an ecstatic Pansy.

"Perhaps you're right, Zabini," says Sophie, "It does seem awfully suspicious for Potter to suddenly make Prefect now like this."

"Well, I think someone who's stopped a Voldemort-infused Professor, killed a Basilisk, exonerated a wanted man, survived the Triwizard Tournament where Voldemort nearly killed him afterwards, and who got wrongly sent to Azkaban ought to be a candidate for Prefect, right?" asks Harry. "Not to mention missing out on school—"

"You were here all the time, Potter," says Smith, "That doesn't count if you led Dumbledore's Army."

"HE WAS?" asks Zabini, "You mean this prick could've been caught by the Inquisitorial Squad after all? I could've nabbed him and sorted him out with Umbridge if the D.A. dorks hadn't taken his name off that parchment. And here I thought Edgecombe was talking nonsense..."

_You're lucky that sign-up list is already destroyed_ , thinks Harry, picturing how Zacharias Smith would look with 'SNEAK' etched across his face. "What's done is done, and no amount of complaints will change that fact. Be grateful my teachings uplifted your Defence Against the Dark Arts mark."

"Oh please, we had three teachers bringing us up to scratch anyway," retorts Smith.

"Ungrateful git," says Ron, "What happened to Hufflepuff fairness and loyalty then?"

"He's only there because he's like an heir of sorts to Helga," says Harry, ignoring the overly arrogant expression on Smith's face. "Fine, disregard all the work I put in during our D.A. meetings then. Like I give a shit."

"Yeah, Smith! Yasmin said you were sour enough to turn milk into yoghurt," scoffs Pansy, before spotting her name being highlighted on the list nearby. "Do wish me luck, Prefect Potter."

"Best of luck to you, my fellow Prefect," says Harry, gesturing a bow that has Pansy grinning as she leaves. Meanwhile, Sally-Anne comes over to shake Harry's hand, although still in disbelief.

"Wow, I...well, you're actually a Prefect after all."

"I sure am," replies Harry, who's soon called up for his exam. Minutes later, he arrives at Hagrid's cabin near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Here, a plump old witch stands beside four exam stations where she greets Harry with a smile.

"Ah, Mister Potter himself."

Looking around, Harry sees not a student in sight as everyone who's gone before him has already returned to the castle.

"You will be required to identify a Knarl among these hedgehogs, handle a Bowtruckle correctly, feed and clean out a Fire Crab with minimal injuries, and select the diet most appropriate for a sick unicorn. Then, once you've completed your examination, you are to return to the castle strictly via the Clock Tower Courtyard; not the Entrance one, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry nods before spotting a nervous Hagrid watching from behind his cabin window. With much revision having been done, and the pressure of impressing both Hagrid and Slughorn next year, Harry gets going in the hopes of acing another O.W.L. Over an hour later, he breathes a sigh of relief while making his way back up the slopes. This time, Harry approaches the Clock Tower Courtyard where Professor McGonagall ticks his name on a clipboard before allowing him into the castle.

"Hold on there, Potter." She hurries towards him with a most concerned expression. "Whose badge are you wearing? Hmm... I suppose I'll need to speak with Miss Parkinson regarding proper Prefect procedures."

Barring the information regarding Slughorn, Harry briefly explains Dumbledore's decision.

"Yes, that certainly makes sense... It would've been quite a shame for all your hard work to have gone unrewarded, Potter. However, I do hope you are prepared for the onslaught of petty jealousy headed your way," says McGonagall.

"Well, find me a kid who's taken down a power-hungry Professor, Basilisk, caught a rat criminal, survived Voldemort's Tournament, and went to Azkaban. Oh, not to mention the whole leading Dumbledore's Army thing," says Harry. "I'll say they're Prefect-worthy indeed, ma'am."

"Off you go, Potter, and do try to be a responsible Prefect, please."

"I'll  _try_ , ma'am." Harry spins on his heel before striding into the clock tower en route to the fifth floor corridor. Sure enough, it's not long until he stumbles across a familiar face:

"So how'd it go?" asks Pansy, standing with a mischievous grin beside the entrance to the Prefects' Bathroom.

"Pretty well, I think. The first task was no problem at all; just had to show each of the hedgehogs some milk until the Knarl went berserk across the lawn."

Pansy gives a soft laugh. "Yeah, kinda like you on some days, eh?"

"Oh ha-ha, that joke just choked. Anyway, the Bowtruckle was a breeze to handle, and no problem with the Fire Crabs too. Okay, so I got a little mixed up with the sick Unicorn's diet in the end," says Harry.

"How could you get such a lovely creature's diet wrong? And when it's sick, no less!"

"Why you tripping on me, Pansy? The last one didn't even involve a Unicorn at all, duh. Just show and tell, or have you forgotten so soon already?" Harry darts his gaze to the bathroom entrance. "So, um, is it time for me to finally see this supposedly glorious room? Hehe... are we gonna strip naked, bath, and  _play_  together now?"

"Oh no," says a grinning Pansy, "Not until you make Quidditch Captain someday. I want my lovely Potter to walk around with two badges, yep."

"Never gonna happen, since Nott's hell-bent on keeping his position," says Harry.

"Well, find a way to make it happen then."

"Yeah, sure, I'll just assassinate him then."

Pansy shows her kind smile which is usually reserved for only a select few people. "You do realise that, at this rate, you'll never play again, right? The staff ain't gonna allow you to rejoin Gryffindor's team next year, silly."

"But I'm not gonna stomp around threatening crappy Housemates to put me on their team, silly," says Harry. "You got any other ideas on having me play, Miss Parkinson?"

"I sure do, baby Potter." Pansy grabs Harry's palm as they walk hand-in-hand down the empty corridor. "I sent Sally-Anne to speak with Madam Hooch regarding the possibility of an extended league next year. Think about it: either everyone plays each other twice or we just split Slytherin into two teams while tweaking the schedule. For the latter option, any game involving us will be worth half points only on both sides. Think of it as Slytherin Team I and II, yep."

"That's going to get extremely complicated extremely quickly," admits Harry

"But I want to see you leading; you must be Captain!" insists Pansy. "Plus, half points will force Nott to work with you in tallying our total scores on the log."

"Okay, fine, let's just see what happens."

Naturally, Harry's unexpected Prefect status elicits a wide variety of reactions across the school. He once again spots similar battle lines being drawn with regards to his fellow students' perception of him. But there's no denying that the Chosen One and his past deeds, which are known to be true, deserve this badge. And he sure as hell isn't taking any rubbish about it, either.

Hermione and Fleur's reactions are easily the best alongside Pansy, Sirius and Tonks as well. With the final Hogsmeade trip of the year coming up this Saturday, Harry can practically feel his celebration party happening already. Of course, Moody recommends (and insists) that no such celebrations take place at all.

"Last thing we need is Potter going down with a serious case of fatal poisoning at his own party," says Moody, standing with Sirius, Tonks, Harry, and Hermione in the Entrance Hall on Wednesday morning after breakfast.

"I absolutely hate how Harry can't even have a simple party without fearing for his life!" admits Hermione. "Is every single thing going to involve a potential assassination plot?"

"Cast your emotions aside for a moment, smart girl," says Tonks, "I know you'd love your lovey-dovey to be made a fuss of, but the reality is pretty clear."

"And pretty bleak these days," adds Sirius. "Still, nobody's going to do a thing against my Prefect godson now. Hey, take a cue from Remus and be good to your friends, huh? You'll need to master the art of turning a blind eye when needed, like when Moony conveniently never saw us catching on crap at times."

"What  _horrible_ advice do you think you're giving, Sirius?" asks Hermione, frowning upon seeing the gleeful expression on Harry's face. "That badge carries a lot of responsibility, Harry James Potter!"

"Ah, therein lies the answer to your ingenious concerns, Hermione," says Sirius, "It's all in his middle name!'

Throughout the next half an hour of waiting for their Astronomy written exam, Hermione sits with an arm wrapped around Harry's shoulder. Her choice of conversation? One lengthy lecture regarding the 'impartial' roles and duties of a proper Prefect.

"Potter, tell your friend to keep shut already! And no, you can't punish me for stating the truth now," says an irate Nott.

"We are trying to focus upon our upcoming exam, Granger," says Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw. "And, Nott, you Slytherins had better not start your incessant fighting again!"

Once the clock strikes half past nine, everyone troops into the Great Hall. But Harry, however, stalls for awhile as he holds Hermione around her back. "Feel free to put me in detention if you don't like this"—He briefly kisses her—"oh wait, you can't."

"So amusing, Harry."

They now enter the Hall with guilty grins upon their faces before sitting their exam. Once finished, the pair head their separate ways as Harry tries preparing for Divination while Hermione double checks her Arithmancy studies. Eventually, lunch hour arrives and Harry shuts his Divination textbooks to go for a stroll outside. Both the weather and his choice of company are equally pleasant out here.

"I know I'm going to fail this O.W.L. so badly that it's in no way funny."

"Well, at least you 'ave gotten zat Divination prediction correct, Monsieur Prefect." Fleur gives Harry a tight-lipped smile of consolation. "Eet is just one silly subject, anyway, so don't let it get to you. Besides, failing one leetle O.W.L. does absolutely nothing to tarnish ze loveliness of 'Arry Potter."

"Some big words you're using there, eh?"

Fleur folds her arms while standing in the Paved Courtyard with Harry. "You can joke around all you'd like, but I am vairy serious. Stop beating yourself up over one damn subject, boy."

"Now you sound like Pansy," says Harry, glancing curiously at Fleur upon noticing that she, Hermione, and Pansy seemed to have picked up on one another's mannerisms in recent months.

"You may wish to party, 'Arry, but theenk of ze long term consequences of doing so. None of ze uzzer Prefects 'ave really 'ad such celebrations. Yes, you are special indeed, but rather don't incite more and more jealousy with a silly party."

Harry sighs while nodding in agreement. "It was quite a rash idea anyway; too much pride in the moment."

"Good thing I am 'ere, no? Somebody needs to control 'Arry Potter before 'e gets swallowed up by stupid pride. Alright, eet is time for your Divination exam; best of luck to you,  _Mon amour_." Fleur gently pulls Harry into a kiss before sending him on his way to the Great Hall. Her loving gesture proves to be the driving force behind Harry's perseverance today. From various theory followed by crystal-gazing, Tessomancy, and Palmistry, he settles upon 'winging' this exam as best he can.

For once, Harry's in a truly foul mood following an exam as he stands scowling beside the marble staircase. His expression souring even further as a familiar group of annoyance comes strolling past.

"Look here, boys, it's an idiot who knows he should've left Treloony for Arithmancy," says Nott to his group (who've just finished Divination as well), as they walk past the staircase en route to the dungeons. "No offense to you guys, though."

"No worries," says Malfoy, "The difference is that we don't need to work, and that's why most of us took Divination. Potter, on the other hand, is forcing himself to be like his overachieving and messed-up-haired Mudblood."

"What do you have to say about that, Potter?" taunts Zabini, before suddenly realising his mistake upon seeing Harry's Prefect badge again.

"Fuck off to detention."

"Damn, I actually forgot this guy's a Prefect," admits Zabini, hurrying off with the rest of his laughing group. "Did you boys just hear Potter swearing like a Muggle? What a loser!"

Meanwhile, Hermione approaches Harry with a concerned look on her face as she speaks. "My goodness, Harry; are you alright?"

"Don't say it," mutters Harry. "I know you're gonna go on and on about how Divination was a waste of time. My dreadful performance is already testament to that."

"Okay," Hermione gives a slightly guilty smile. "I was actually going to say all that, you know. Look on the bright side: you won't have to continue with it next year! Your days of crystal crap, tea-leaf trash, and palm-reading rubbish are finally at an end. Oh, and let me see... aha! Ron said there was planetary alignment stuff in there too."

"So you have taken a slight interest in Divination after all."

"No, Harry, I'm only aware of it thanks to Ron's persistent use of his Uranus humour. I suppose it was funny... the first five times."

Harry groans with a sigh. "I should've forced in Uranus."

"E-Excuse me?"

"I'm just referring to the written portion of this afternoon's O.W.L. My answer shouldn't have involved Saturn as much as it should've been Uranus instead."

Hermione leads them back to the Hall for an early dinner. "Just forget all things Divination now, alright?"

Their next O.W.L. takes place at around eleven o'clock on top of the Astronomy Tower, and on a perfect night for stargazing, no less. But even though it's summer, the weather remains as chilly as ever up here, necessitating the use of Charms, jerseys and scarves. All goes silent save for the sounds of scribbling, telescope adjustment, and parchments being used to document their exam work.

To Harry's surprise, his study method of linking the constellations and theory to members of the Black family seems to have succeeded. For the Orion constellation, two very specific stars have been saved for last on Harry's star-chart.  _Gamma Orionis_  shifts his wistful thoughts to a certain woman before Harry ends the exam by documenting the  _Alpha Canis Majoris_  star.

At half past twelve in the morning, many fifth-years yawn throughout the trip back to their common rooms. As he's now officially a Prefect, Harry brazenly accompanies his girls back to the dungeons... and ultimately their dormitory room.

"Now then, Prefect," says a yawning Daphne, "take charge and tuck us in."

"Yeah, it's your duty now," adds Millicent, while Pansy conveniently stuffs her badge in her drawers.

"What a bunch of crap. Besides, Pansy's a Prefect too."

"But you're the gentleman here," says Pansy, kicking off her shoes and casting some basic cleaning spells over herself and Harry. "Come on, read us a bedtime story too."

"My life could pass as a bedtime story," admits Harry, while finally deciding upon tucking his ladies in. Eventually, he settles for some much-needed sleep in probably the safest area of the Slytherin common room these days.

Thursday brings Harry's final O.W.L. in the form of History of Magic; a lengthy written examination taken at 2pm in the sunlit Great Hall. Harry reckons that, even should he scrape an Acceptable for this dreary class, there's no way he's enduring it through his N.E.W.T. years too. The sounds of sighs, scribbles, and of parchments being ruffled fill the Hall over the next two hours.

"Well, students, that concludes your Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations," says Professor Marchbanks once the hourglass has emptied. "Depending on your choice of career, some of you may be pleased with your grades next year. As for the rest, however, there is always the possibility of retaking an O.W.L. or two."

Harry raises his hand while seated near the front of the middle row. "Professor, what happens if someone doesn't achieve the necessary scores for entering any of next year's classes? For example, let's say... 'Acceptable' across the board?"

"All A's?" asks Marchbanks in a surprised manner. "I suppose that doesn't count as a fail, but one would surely need to rethink one's ambitions in that case. Some of your professors might be willing to let in an A-level O.W.L. next year, but most entrance requirements are set at Exceeds Expectations."

"Oh my gosh!" gasps Hermione, "So does that mean it's possible to only end up doing less than a handful of classes next year?"

"It certainly does; the N.E.W.T. years are highly flexible as per student," says Marchbanks. "But where only a couple of N.E.W.T.s can take one in life...hmph. It's better to avoid catastrophizing now. Anyway, there's still one week left of school for you students to enjoy. So, save you concerns until the results are mailed sometime in July."

With the rest of the school finishing their exams as well this week, Harry tries to find a suitable spot amidst hundreds flocking to the sunny grounds. By now, the weight of the O.W.L.s feels much like a heavy burden lifted from everyone's shoulders.

"Finally! I thought this day would never ever come in a million years," declares Ron, much to the agreement of his roommates hanging around the castle's slopes. Meanwhile, Harry sits against a nearby tree with his Slytherin girls and Hermione; the latter of whom takes to re-reading the first half of a sixth-year textbook.

"What is she— Are you joking?" asks Millicent, seeing the N.E.W.T. level book perused by Hermione. "Harry, does your pal  _ever_  stop reading or studying?"

"She's trapped in her own world now, so let's give her some space," says a laid-back Harry, "Look on the bright side: at least she's not hidden in the depths of the library as always." He then directs his attention to a groaning Pansy leaning against his legs. "Would you sit still already?"

"Would you quit shaking your legs already? It's such a lifelong habit of yours, baby Potter," says Pansy.

"Sorry, it's my nerves and anxiety creeping in, yeah," Harry happily resumes his persistent leg-shaking which Pansy tries to endure.

Sally-Anne suddenly snaps her fingers before speaking. "Oh, I just remembered that Madam Hooch wants to meet up with you today, Harry. I think she's in the staffroom."

" _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ ," Harry taps the Map with his wand. "Let's see... yep, our Madam's in the staffroom alright."

"And so are Professors Snape, Vector, Babbling, Burbage, Trelawney, and Sinistra. I don't even know half of them," admits a laughing Pansy. "Hey, Granger, even your teachers are all chilled out towards the end of term."

Hermione remains reading her book while making a gesture of silence with her right hand.

"Oh, excuse me," scoffs Pansy, "I might as well be friendly to our future Minister of Magic, yes. Just don't try freeing all the elves and giving wands to the goblins... that'll be worse than career-suicide."

"To hell with the goblins," mutters Harry, "I always try to be nice to them at the bank, but they're forever treating me like average crap."

"Nobody gets special treatment from those filthy little tunnel-scrapers," says Daphne, "and no amount of courtesy and politeness will ever change that."

Tracey snorts with a laugh. "What? You expect them to bow down and worship you from just a bit of politeness? The only things those scum are good for are digging tunnels and watching over our bank accounts. Not my fault they're butthurt over being denied wands for centuries."

"Serves 'em right, the hateful pricks," sneers Millicent. "If we entrust them with wands, they'll rise up in terrible opposition. At least now the worst they can throw at us are their unbreakable equipment and armour."

"What? Goblins attacking us? Attacking  _wizards_?" asks Harry, "If they ever so much as try... Unbreakable armour can only get them so far."

Daphne leans forward rather eagerly at this unexpected topic. "You know, I got into a lovely little debate with Astoria last year. She said goblin-made armour will block out any and all spells, including Avada Kedavra."

"You sure spend a lot of time with your sister," says Sally-Anne, "Like, a LOT of time, at times."

"Don't get involved with our personal lives," warns Daphne, "That's strictly family business. Anyway, back to the stinking goblins... Why doesn't the Ministry just equip its Aurors like that? We'd be kick-arse, right?"

"We'd be bloody losers, right," says Harry, "No way would we witches and wizards resort to overusing goblin stuff."

"Astoria's a tad confused, bless her," says Sally-Anne, "Sure, goblin stuff resists most spells, but not the Killing Curse. I don't care if they wear full body protection without any gaps, but that Curse ain't getting stopped. Besides, the books have made it pretty clear that Harry Potter's the only one who's ever survived the Killing Curse."

Hermione, while still intrigued by her revision, opts to have her say in the matter. "Trust me, I've searched through many books of history back in first year—"

"Probably for some  _light reading_."

"Close your mouth, Harry," Hermione scoffs before carrying on. "Anyway, the goblins sure made extensive use of their equipment during the rebellions, and yet they were still beaten. Only the weaker Killing Curses failed to penetrate goblin-made armour, and they wouldn't count as proper attacks to survive against. Both sides often had casualties, and some goblins were reported to have stolen the wands of the fallen."

"They WHAT?" asks a disgusted Harry. "Those massive-nosed, pointy-eared, money-grubbing motherf—"

"Hey, we're talking centuries ago, Chosen One," says Hermione, "and it's not fair to discriminate like that, you know. They're still magical  _beings_ , like us."

"Mom used to tell me stories of how a properly cast Killing Curse could down them like nothing," says Pansy, "Centuries back, many goblins charged in with their deadly gear only to be mowed down by salvos of Killing Curses from fed-up wizards. But, like Granger said, our ancestors weren't all fortunate enough to survive. Some were brutally hacked, impaled, or whatever else'd to death."

"And to think I paid off Bagman's debt with the goblins last year," says Harry, much to the surprise of some of his girls. "Don't ask why, I suppose it was just a gut feeling of opportunity at the time. What opportunity, exactly, I'm not sure."

Instead of wasting away his afternoon deploring the goblins, Harry conceals his Map while en route to the staffroom. Here, he speaks his way past two stone gargoyles and enters the long, panelled room with mismatched wooden chairs.

It's a rather odd scene for Harry as he looks around the staffroom. Everyone appears to be noticeably more relaxed compared to when they're at the High Table or their classes. Sitting to Harry's far right are Professors Vector and Babbling, the pair having coffee in addition to discussing who knows what. To Harry's left, he spots an uncharacteristically relaxed Snape sipping tea while casually chatting with the Muggle Studies teacher.

"So it's true that Harry Potter's a Prefect?" asks Professor Burbage, to which Snape leans forward with a stern expression upon eyeing Harry.

"Why are you in our staffroom, Potter? Your newfound authority does not grant free roam of this place."

"He's here to see me," says Madam Hooch, sitting with her feet on a table which faces Harry. "Come inside and have a seat, Potter. A little discussion won't do much to interrupt our end of term rest."

"Potter," says Snape, "Zabini's informed me that you've sent him to detention without sufficient reason. Is this true?"

"They were on my case, yet again, after Divination yesterday afternoon, sir. It was either that or deducting House points from Slytherin, because I'm done dishing out warnings with that lot."

"And how exactly have you spoken to Zabini yesterday?" asks Snape, while Madam Hooch takes her boots off the table as Harry speaks.

"I told him to, and I quote, 'fuck off to detention'."

Every professor glances from Harry to Snape, who sighs a slight bit. "If you disgrace this House, and myself, with that badge..."

"The boy's standing up for himself, Severus," says Professor Burbage, "You should be proud of your leading student. A pity you're not in my class, Potter."

"I had considered it after second year, ma'am. But there's more than enough Muggle Studies at home for me; no offense intended."

The remark hardly fazes the Professor as she takes to questioning Harry over his family.

"Don't believe anything you may have heard from my less-than-reputable Housemates," says Harry, "My Muggle family isn't  _that_  bad. Sure, they're frightened of me and my abilities, but they've gotten slightly better in recent years. Whatever you may have heard about me getting beaten, abused, maimed or tortured into slavery at home is pure rubbish, Professor. I don't hold much of a grudge against them."

"Yes, I remember Miss Granger saying, back in third year, that you were still sending gifts to your Muggle family," says Professor Burbage, to which Snape snorts.

"A fruitless effort, Potter."

"Oh don't be like that, Severus; the boy's free to do as he pleases."

"Severus, Charity, I'd appreciate actually getting to start my small discussion with Potter already," says Madam Hooch, gesturing for Harry to sit at the table. "Alright, let's get cracking... So, Mister Potter, your Perks friend has brought forth a most interesting proposal for next year."

"My girls can be quite pushy, Madam; I hope Sally-Anne wasn't too abrupt with her words?"

"On the contrary, I was half-expecting you to show up with a plan of getting Captaincy," says Hooch, who's swiftly interrupted by Snape.

"Last I time checked, Madam Hooch is not your Head of House."

"Yes, sir, but she's in charge of logistics surrounding the Quidditch league. It's not as simple a task as me asking for Theodore Nott's position," says Harry. "In that case, I would be running straight to you, Professor."

"Potter's got a point, Snape," says Madam Hooch, "Only a most addled person would be oblivious to the hostilities spreading through your House in recent years. In addition, only a fool wouldn't take Potter as their team's Captain these days."

"Why not just strip Mr. Nott from his badge?" asks Professor Burbage, "It'd be for the benefit of your team, Severus."

"I see no reason to do so," admits Snape. "But, if Potter's that hell-bent on earning another badge, he will have to settle this matter himself."

Over the next few minutes, Madam Hooch discusses and settles upon doubling each match next year. "We'll make each one's score worth only half on the log. As for your Captaincy issue, I see only one solution... and you may not like it, Potter."

"I'll take anything, at this point," says Harry.

"We can try and implement a Vice-captain system across the board. Yes, I know it would be terrible for you to work under Nott, but he's already the designated Captain of Team Slytherin. There's only so much favour we can bestow upon one student, Potter, even for you," says Madam Hooch.

"The question is: can the famous Potter take orders from a fellow student?" asks Snape.

"Who said I'm taking orders, sir? I would, if it were a fair situation. But we all know how much hatred Nott has for me just because his stupid father's now in Azkaban. No, I'll pick and run my own team independently from Malfoy and the rest. Like it or not, sir, that would be in everyone's best interests."

"Let him go rogue, Severus," says Professor Burbage, "You might even end up with two separate teams trying to outdo each other in their respective matches. The irony is that this would actually strengthen your overall Slytherin side."

Nodding, Snape permits Madam Hooch's decision of this new Vice-captain role, which the latter also deems as optional. "We wouldn't wish to force our existing Captains to seek deputies, right?" asks Madam Hooch. "So, Potter, is everything settled? You alright with wearing a Vice-captain badge upon your chest?"

"Second-best in rank, but I'll be first-best up there. Just you all watch, ma'ams and sir," says Harry. "But what if Nott vehemently refuses to make me Vice-captain?"

"I am in no mood for another riot in our common room," says Snape, "A meeting will be held, should he refuse."

"If there's nothing else, you're free to go, Mister Potter," says Madam Hooch.

By sheer coincidence, Harry later stumbles across a rather dejected Cormac McLaggen sitting alone in the Middle Courtyard. "McLaggen? What's up with you today?"

"How would you feel if you knew you're a good player, but can't get to play Quidditch at all? I'm tired of these pick-up casual games, man; I need some action in a packed stadium again! Hold on, you're gonna be Captain next year, right? Yeah, I reckon they'll kick that useless Nott out and make you Captain. I'll play for Slytherin, Potter! Anything to get some game-time!"

"Whoa, chill, relax," says Harry, before explaining the change of league structure for next year. Naturally, this news has McLaggen back to his usual self as he desperately runs off in search of Angelina Johnson. As for Harry, well, he goes off in search of Pansy and the rest as Thursday afternoon moves on.

 


	36. A Leap of Faith

The final Hogsmeade trip of this year takes place on Saturday, the 19th of June. For most students, it's a day of fun and frolicking in the wizarding village. For Harry, however, it's a day marked with the risk of being watched, ambushed, portkeyed, and all manner of potential foul play.

From enduring a hefty queue at the main gate (courtesy of Filch's Dark detectors) to being watched by various Aurors, Harry spends over half an hour just getting into Hogsmeade itself. By the time he steps foot onto High Street, Harry forces out an exaggerated sigh while walking beside Hermione.

"After all that waiting and watching, I'm just not in the mood for this trip."

She looks at him while grabbing his hand as they walk together down the street. "Oh, do cheer up; there's no reason to get so upset over mandatory security measures. Come on, let's have ourselves a nice summer's date, alright? I'm thinking... Madam Puddifoot's, even if the place reminds me of Umbridge's office."

"I remember being in that pink hellhole as Pansy," says Harry, "If you're not comfortable with our local tea shop then don't go."

"But Puddifoot's also reminds me of that time when we first came here in third year," says Hermione, with a slight smile on her face. "And that's enough for me to go on. To hell with Umbridge! Let's go, high and mighty Chosen One."

"I can think of no better way than to spend my morning with the girl of my dreams..."

Hermione lets out a swift laugh before speaking. "You mean 'a girl of my dreams', right? 'The' is a definite article in English, or weren't you paying attention in primary school?"

Harry squeezes Hermione's hand ever so slightly as they walk down the lengthy street lined with shops. "What the heck school did you go to?  _Definite article_? That's beyond my primary school days. You're such a grammar nerd, Grang —wait a minute..."

Just as Harry stops walking, so does Hermione who looks at him with a curious expression. "Something wrong? Don't tell me you've forgotten your spare change again, Harry James Potter."

"No, no, but I've done it!" declares Harry triumphantly, fist-pumping the air while beaming with pride. "I have finally figured it things out, yes! It all makes sense now, at long last."

"You're starting to worry me now, Mister," says a slightly wide-eyed Hermione while watching Harry's self-celebrations. "What supposedly 'big mystery' have you solved today?"

"The biggest one around; the most important one in my whole life!" says a surprised Harry. "Looking back, everything seems so much clearer now that I understand the real truth about things. Was I truly  _that_  blind to have never seen this overly-obvious fact? I know the truth!"

Shaking her head while smiling, Hermione folds her arms upon patiently awaiting Harry's explanations. "Well, Private Detective, I enthusiastically await the unravelling of whatever you've just solved."

"Your little speech on grammar tipped the scales of my grand discovery, Miss Granger," says Harry, shaking his finger at a curious Hermione. "I finally understand how and why you're this damn clever!"

"Oh my God," sighs Hermione while rolling her eyes. "Seriously, Harry? And here I thought it was something essential to winning the war or battling Voldemort or whatev—"

"Just hear me out! I remember where your house is... somewhere in Hampstead, yes? Well, there's a grammar school just past the church near you, and that's why you're so damn hard-working and smart!"

"I think you're a screw loose, love," says Hermione, "My grammar correction has nothing to do with grammar school. They're not the same usage of 'grammar', really. It's just an obsolete name for posh schools that only enrol 11 year olds who've passed a hectic set of exams."

"Exactly! You could've been in Cho's year but missed everything because your birthday's the 19th of September. I can make a very good guess that you were destined for grammar school, right? Because, at that point, you clearly knew as much about the wizarding world as I did when I was 10. Confess, Hermione, confess! You must have been hitting the little kiddie books hard in preparation for your posh grammar school life, eh? Mainstream school too beneath your high and mighty level, huh? HUH?"

At this point, Hermione succumbs to shrieks of laughter at Harry's crazed expression, given that he's just thought all this out on the spot. "Alright, fine, you're quite correct in that my parents were considering grammar school for little me." She now adopts a rather reminiscent look while smiling. "Ah, I remember it so clearly now..."

"Let's hear it," says Harry, leading Hermione to sit on a bench beside the street.

"From what I can remember, my 11 plus score... you do know what an 11 plus is, right?"

Harry shakes his head while seated beside Hermione on the warm bench. "Sounds like some high-class thing befitting Hermione Granger."

"Oh, whatever," she gives a soft laugh and carries on with her reminiscing. "It's a very tricky set of tests we can take at... guess what age?"

"Eleven?"

Hermione nods while clapping. "Yay! So, how'd you figure it out?"

"Very funny, Hermione. Could pass for a comedian. _'Stand up comedy with Granger_.'"

"Anyway," she lays across the bench and props her legs on Harry's lap. "I remember my score as being about 140 or 141, yep."

"What were those tests out of, 150? That means you got over 90 percent, as usual," says a grinning Harry.

"No, silly, it's a standardised score using maths calculations, and we never got told our raw marks. The 11 plus just compared all the students' scores into a graph where you're ranked. I was quite above the average score."

"And you still are."

"My results came back around October of 1990, I remember, and my parents were as proud as ever. We made all the necessary arrangements and confirmed my place at a grammar school by March the following year. Of course, there was the usual jealousy in Year 6 of my primary school as very few others even sat the test."

"I can imagine the little Muggles picking on you for being too smart for their liking," scoffs Harry, while leaning closer to Hermione as she carries on speaking.

"That's exactly how my final year of primary school went." She appears relatively uncaring but still disappointed. "Lots of bullying when the teacher wasn't around, and break times just sucked even more. I know you meant no harm earlier by joking that mainstream schools were 'beneath me', but I heard this from every other pupil as well... and in a far less amusing manner. Although, I'll be lying if I said I wasn't eagerly anticipating grammar school and its challenges."

"Then came the biggest month of your little life, correct?" asks a smiling Harry.

"Mm-hmm," says Hermione. "By then, everything was ready and my uniform hung so proudly in my room. Midway through July, however, we got an unexpected guest."

"I'll bet a Sickle it was Professor McGonagall," says Harry, before catching the silver coin tossed his way by a nodding Hermione.

"She came in the dark after sunset while dressed as a proper witch, no less. Mum thought this was a poor excuse of a joke and shooed McGonagall off our doorstep. But I'm sure the Professor was used to all manner of Muggle family reactions, because she calmly came in to explain my letter of acceptance. Then she lit our fireplace with magic and we were all shocked speechless."

"I'd pay to have seen your face on that day, Miss Granger."

"I'd pay to have seen your face when Hagrid brought your final letter, Mr. Potter." They stare at each other, smiling, before Hermione continues: "We were then escorted to Diagon Alley the following day, and the rest is pretty much history. I did as much reading and practice as possible after that. Yes, before you say it, I read a lot about you too."

Harry remains smiling at Hermione. "Feels good, doesn't it? To talk about your life, I mean."

"It sure does." She stands up and pulls Harry to his feet. "Anymore questions? Or shall we be off to our steamy little teashop?"

Wasting no time, Harry wraps his arm around Hermione's waist as they head off down a side road and into Madam Puddifoot's. "Now, it's time to spoil the Grammar Schoolgirl. Someone as mighty as you needs to get only the best of stuff, which no village idiot can hope to afford."

"What?" Hermione glances quizzically at the sniggering Harry. "There's no need to splurge your cash on me."

"Oh yes there is!" Harry sits them down at a round table in the far corner of the cramped room. "Pick up that menu and order to your heart's content." Although he sits back and grins at Hermione ordering all manner of things, Harry ends up being just as spoilt by his date today.

"See? You're not the only one with money, Mister Potter," says Hermione, after finishing her third slice of Madam Puddifoot's most expensive dessert available.

Harry, who's just eaten his fourth helping of Madam Puddifoot's second-most expensive dessert, can't help but smile yet again. "Admit it, I still win this competition in the end."

"It doesn't have to be about financial circumstances only; it's about what's inside too, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh, please! If we go by what's 'inside', then our love would drive every other couple out this shop from envy."

Their date carries on with both students alternating between eating, speaking, or simply admiring each other. From minutes to over an hour, Harry and Hermione remain within the crowded teashop sampling all manner of treats and drinks. Looking out the window beside their table, they spot Sirius walking down the road with his wand at the ready.

"Man, he's taking his duties seriously today," says Harry.

"No surprise, given what had happened in our Quidditch final," replies Hermione, as they watch Sirius stop for a chat with Tonks at the road's intersection. "Is it just me, or does Tonks seem to have a crush on Professor Lupin?"

"Heh, it's more than just a crush, Hermione." Harry leans back in his seat while eyeing three different flavours of tea before him. "Well, well, well... what do we have here? Three different flavours just like three different ladies. The scented one would be you. Then I'd say the sweet one would be Fleur, and the most potent flavour here is definitely Pansy."

"And what would you be, Harry? I'm guessing... a bittersweet type of flavour, yes," says Hermione, before looking at the sole teacup on her side of the table.

"As bitter and sweet as you'd like," says Harry.

Hermione rolls her eyes before Harry requests that Puddifoot 'surprise' them with something delicious. Five minutes later, both students sit eyeing a delectable chocolate dish of sorts.

"What's this?" asks Harry, once Puddifoot's moved across the room.

"No idea," says Hermione, "I'm not an encyclopaedia of foods." She stuffs a spoonful of the dessert and immediately widens her eyes. "Oh my, this is rather delectable. You really should try some, here, open up!"

While savouring his surprise dessert, Harry looks up to see an irritable expression on Hermione's face. "Please don't give me that look, love."

"It's not you that I'm looking at," mutters Hermione through clenched teeth. "Some fifth or whatever year girl is staring at you from the front of the room. I think she's a Ravenclaw in Luna's year or something. Doesn't matter, she should keep her eyes on her own boyfriend, thank you."

"Oh nooooo, is Miss Granger getting jealous?"

"No, it's just pathetic how they're all so suddenly interested in Harry Potter now that it's officially known that you've fought Voldemort. Before then, you were just seen as some Triwizard show-off turned expelled loser," says Hermione.

Before Harry can respond, he's startled by a knock on the window. Looking left, he spots Pansy gesturing towards something on the table. But all Harry can do is shrug, given that he's unable to properly hear his friend from inside the teashop.

"She looks disappointed," says Hermione, "You don't think she's jealous about—"

Her speculations are answered as Pansy whips out her wand and casts  _Flagrate_ to write a note in midair:

_Share your tea, dumbass!_

Grinning guiltily, Harry swiftly does as ordered and moves a teacup across the table to make it even. Now, Pansy erases her spell and shakes her head before walking down the road.

"Even on our date here, you still need Pansy's guidance," says a sniggering Hermione.

Another 20 minutes passes by before Harry and Hermione end up leaning forward for a kiss. That is, until they spot a small gathering on the opposite side of the road outside. "I knew we shouldn't have taken the window table," sighs Harry, upon seeing Sirius, Tonks, and Lupin waving at them.

"Who gives even the smallest damn?" Hermione pulls him into her embrace as they kiss over a plate of nearly finished dessert. "Is that up to your 'oh so high' standards?"

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a Grammar Girl," he replies, feeling a soothing warmth from within. Not even a slight verbal altercation outside can dampen Harry's mood after Madam Puddifoot's teashop.

"Why the hell are you two wearing your uniforms on a weekend... and in Hogsmeade, of all places?" asks a seventh year Ravenclaw girl. "Ugh, if you're going for Mudbloods, Potter, then at least take one who bothers to neaten her hair for the occasion."

"Shall I?" asks Harry, glancing at a nodding Hermione while standing at the intersection on High Street. "Five points from Ravenclaw for discrimination and provoking two Prefects. Oh, and there's eff all wrong with Hermione's hair."

"I expected better from a Ravenclaw student," says Hermione, narrowing her eyes at the girl before walking away with Harry. "Let's not sully our fine day with one bit of rubbish."

"Where to next?"

"Stationery for next term, Harry."

They walk side-by-side, holding each other close, to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop where Hermione leads the way through many rows of items. From fancy feathered quills to rather lavish ones, Harry finds it quite challenging to decide. "Check these bright ones out," he says, causing Hermione to gasp in delight.

"I think they're quite lovely! Huh, isn't that a nice little coincidence? Red for Gryffindor, green for Slytherin, and blue for..."

"Beauxbatons," says Harry, "Or at least, that's how I see it. Alright, let's take some green ones for my girls, a red one for my Grammar Granger, and a blue one for Fleur Delacour."

"Hey, don't forget about yourself," says Hermione, grabbing a quill from its copper pot. "One to match those eyes, Mister Potter."

Harry spends around 7 Galleons and 11 Sickles in purchasing these seven quills, and he now exits the store with Hermione carrying their goods. From here, the pair simply stroll around Hogsmeade village without any set destinations in mind.

The remaining Saturday is spent with Harry opting for a pick-up game of Quidditch. However, before he can even select his teammates, word spreads around the common room at Harry's plans for the afternoon. Naturally, Irma Flint practically forces her way onto his team alongside Pansy, Daphne, Millicent, Sally-Anne, and Tracey.

"How cute," says Pansy, watching the second-year organising their team to play against a mix of random opponents. "Channelling big brother's spirit, I see."

"Harry, you're Seeker," says Irma, glancing from player to player as her pigtails swish about. "Pansy, Daphne, and I will play as Chasers, Sally-Anne and Millicent can be Beaters, and this leaves Tracey to play as Keeper."

"You sure?" asks Harry, causing Tracey to march right up to him.

"What's wrong? Is it because I wear glasses? Oh please! You know I've played Keeper before, and there's something called 'magic' to straighten things out, duh. You should know better than anyone else, Harry Potter." She glares at him through narrowed eyes until Harry hands out Nimbus 2001's for his team to fly.

Across the pitch, he spots his opponents arriving with their own assortment of brooms in hand. First comes Cho in Seeker position, bringing her Nimbus 2001 which Harry recalls using to beat Malfoy many months back. Next comes Cedric with his Nimbus 1700 to play Chaser alongside Adrian and Yasmin, both flying Nimbus 2001's as well. Filling up the Beater positions against Harry's team are none other than Fred and George, both carrying their Nimbus 2000's which Harry's gifted quite a while back.

"Hey! You can't have a pick-up game towards the end of our year without me!" says Angelina Johnson, running across the pitch in Keeper gear.

"Well, what do you know?" asks Pansy, folding her arms upon observing their opponents. "We're up against a mix of Houses; all of them, in fact."

"Sticking with your squad, eh, Harry?" Yasmin eyes the group before looking down upon Irma. "I heard you've got some skills there, little Flint, but you're still just a second-year."

"I don't care if you're bigger or Head Girl; nobody trash talks me," says Irma, swiftly mounting her broom. The replica Golden Snitch is then released by today's 'referee', Miles Bletchley. Meanwhile, Cassius Warrington occupies the partially-filled stands while awaiting his turn to be called up. Fourteen brooms hover in midair, above the centre of the pitch, as George speaks:

"We're playing with proper rules now, folks. Oh, and don't forget to summon the Snitch with a spell if it's still on the loose by dinner. It's a replica, remember? Warrington will swap with Flint after an hour of play, and then she'll come back if the game's still on after another hour."

"Or if one of our teams win and then we restart it," says Irma, looking at Harry hovering nearby. "Don't be a jerk by catching it too soon."

"No promises," says a smirking Harry.

"Get cracking, boys and girls!" Bletchley blows his whistle as the casual game commences. With just over two hours to go until dinner, he wastes no time in tossing up the Quaffle to commence play. It certainly does feel odd, in Harry's opinion, to be playing with full rules and a fairly packed stadium without any commentary. Perhaps he's gotten rather used to Lee Jordan's talents behind the magical megaphone?

Still, it's an afternoon well spent as the Snitch is caught a total of three times, with Harry beating Cho twice in succession.

"You got lucky!" she says, walking up the slopes around 5pm. "Our Chasers whacked your side good, Harry."

Daphne, Pansy, Irma, and Warrington all scoff at the remark as they walk beside the large group of students.

"No hard feelings?" asks Yasmin, strutting beside an unamused Irma. "I just had more reach and experience."

"Just you wait until I grow up," says Irma.

Yasmin laughs while replying. "Too bad I'll be out of school by then, and so will Harry if you take too long!"

"Blah blah blah blah," Irma skips ahead, and up the slopes, while en route to the Entrance Hall. This leaves Harry to walk and talk with his group of friends, some of whom are relishing their final week at Hogwarts.

"Feeling nervous about your O.W.L.s?" asks Cedric, walking between Harry and Yasmin.

"Nope. Are you feeling nervous about your N.E.W.T.s?"

"I'd be lying if I said no," says Cedric, to which Yasmin and the other seventh-years agree.

"N.E.W.T.s or not, our future is already set and bright," declares Fred, while George backs him up.

"Yeah, we're just getting something on paper to calm our overly anxious mother," he says, "But you folks had better keep an eye out, and keep those pockets filled, in Diagon Alley from next month onwards."

"So, are we playing some more pick-up games this week?" asks Adrian Pucey, now wrapping his arm around the Head Girl as the group walks through the Entrance Courtyard.

Yasmin looks from Adrian to Harry before replying. "I think the pitch is pretty much booked by Gryffindor's upcoming Captain—and yes, she definitely will be—Ginny Weasley. I think she's planning an all-girls match with some of her pals tomorrow and thereafter."

"I've already dropped Ginny's name with McGonagall for Captain next year," says Angelina.

"An all girls bit of fun, huh?" asks Warrington, raising his brow, "With that attitude, Weasley will probably end up playing for the Holyhead Harpies after Hogwarts."

"There's nothing wrong with some girl-time," says Yasmin, as she now looks at Pansy's gang. "Right, ladies?"

"Yeah, girl time's awesome!" Pansy grins quite mischievously. "Right, Harry?"

"Oh ha-ha, very funny, Pansy."

"Take the joke like a real girl-man," says Cho, slapping Harry on his back as they step through the front double doors. "Seriously, though, I'm hoping to be Captain next year. So you, Ginny and whoever else had better watch out!"

By now, word seems to have spread across the school regarding the change in Quidditch structure for next year. As expected, Harry walks right into a confrontation with Nott, at the Slytherin table, upon entering the Great Hall.

"What's this I'm hearing? Two games and Vice Captain nonsense, Potter?"

Most of Harry's group heads for their House table seats as Pansy joins in on the confrontation.

"It's because you're too stupid to step down to the better player, Nott," says a seething Pansy. "Mark my words that Harry's only second-best on the badge, but far better than you on the field."

"I'm not allowing this at all," says Nott, folding his arms and sitting defiantly in his seat. "If Captains have the power to optionally appoint Vice Captains, then Draco or Zabini fits the slot for me."

"I'm with you, Theo," says Zabini. "No way Potter's crawling anywhere near our pure team."

"Say it," says Harry, flicking his Prefect badge, "I'm waiting for that inevitable blood status insult."

"Sod off and die, Potter; the Dark Lord's on the move again." Nott gestures towards the  _Evening Prophet_  laid open before him. "Fortescue and his family's been kidnapped."

"What?"

" _What_?" mimics Nott, "Don't act so stupid, Potter, because this is war. Or were you so trapped in your cosy mindset after your 'victory' at the Ministry? You think you've got what it takes to resist the Dark Lord? You'll wind up just like everyone's favourite ice-cream man—"

"Shut ze fuck up, Nott," says a voice behind Harry as Fleur gracefully comes to a halt beside him. "Really, shut it before your stupid stinking mouth gets you into trouble, arse'ole. Zis is absolutely no joking matter! First ze Florean man was proven to 'ave been Imperiused, and now 'e is kidnapped after just a few weeks at 'ome."

"Perhaps the Ministry should have sent him to Azkaban after all..." says Harry, "He might've been safer under the watch of trained Magical Law Enforcement members."

Fleur shakes her head before speaking. "No, I theenk zey should 'ave put some guards in 'is store and 'ome. Zis new Ministry of ours seems somewhat troubling as well."

"Aha!" says Zabini, "Who's the one with a stupid mouth now, filthy Quarter-Breed? Insulting Minister Scrimgeour, are we?"

"Consider your detention this evening lengthened by 20 minutes for discrimination against Fleur," says Harry to a cussing Zabini. "And swearing won't change anything, jerk."

He walks down the aisle, and away from the confrontation, with Fleur to take their seats between the girls. Naturally, it doesn't take long for Pansy to describe her 'guidance' on Harry's date.

"What?" asks Harry, seeing Fleur sitting with her elbow on the table, and her cheek resting on her fist as she sighs. "Are you upset over something?"

"'Ave I taught you nothing, my dear? You do not sit with so many cups of tea while your date only 'as one! Tsk, tsk, zat is being evidently inconsiderate, 'Arry."

"You're lucky it was Granger," says Millicent, "Other girls might've gotten annoyed at your selfishness."

"It's a damn good thing she knows you like the back of her hand by now," says Sally-Anne.

"Come on, ladies, no need to blow one little thing out of proportion," says Harry, "Hermione would never ditch me over a few cups of tea... or anything, really."

"Well, that is true, I suppose," says Sally-Anne, "But don't let your Cuddleborn watch you hoard all the beverages again, alright? Be a gentleman."

Realising that he's never going to hear the end of this tonight, Harry goes along and admits his mistakes. "Oh okay, fine; next time, I'll be super generous and gentlemanly on a date, alright?"

"You'd better be," says Pansy, "Because we're going out when it's the next Hogsmeade trip again. I expect to be pampered, loved, and treated like a queen on the day. If I say 'hop', then you say 'how high?' If I kick off my shoes, then you rub my feet, understand?"

As the final week of term arrives, Harry battles to keep himself occupied with anything besides Voldemort and the Death Eaters. "There's no point in stressing ourselves out now," he says on Monday afternoon, while laying in the shadow of a tree near the lake.

Sitting cross-legged right beside him is Pansy, who plays with Harry's hair while speaking. "I'm surprised that you haven't asked me to get my mom to spy on the Dark Lord for you."

"I know what it's like to be an orphan," says Harry, relishing the feel of her touch. "And there's no way I'd condemn you to that same fate."

The rest of their day is spent walking around the grounds while stopping every so often to sit and relax. Some students can be seen swimming in the Black Lake accompanied by the giant squid, and others go about their activities on this fine summer's day.

"I know I've asked this before, but how do you deal with all these expectations placed upon you?" asks Pansy, laying and kicking off her shoes on a flat rock at the Stone Circle. "You know, all this  _Chosen One_ stuff and whatnot."

"It's not so much an expectation than it is the inevitable," says Harry, "The way Voldemort's hell-bent on killing me means we're gonna clash again at some point."

"The big baddie's got decades of experience and ingenuity over you, Harry. How in the world can you expect to win? Okay, I won't lie, my mom's been in contact with the Death Eater, Crouch. He's told her everything that happened at the Ministry, even before you explained it to me. The reality is that you've gotten lucky in every confrontation with the Dark Lord so far..."

"That's sort of true, I suppose," Harry grabs hold of Pansy's stockings clad feet which he decides to caress (much to her delight). "As long as people like Professor Dumbledore are around, I'm not worried. The Headmaster knows what he's doing, and I'm sure he's got a plan to put Voldemort in the dirt for good."

"I certainly hope so," mutters Pansy. "It's still hard to believe though, isn't it? To think, once upon a time, the Dark Lord was actually just like you."

Harry grits his teeth and scoffs. "Influential Slytherin? Orphan? Muggle upbringing? Parselmouth? Half-Blood? Fine, but I'm still better than that reject disgrace to our House. The world will be a better place without his existence."

"On that, I can agree one hundred percent, my lovely Potter," says a smiling Pansy. "Well, don't take too long to destroy him, alright? I'd rather not have to wait until old age to get married and have kids, you know."

"Whoa, slow down there, girl," says a chuckling Harry. "We're only fifteen now anyway; there's still enough time to do what needs to be done in this war. Live a little and have fun while we're still at school. I mean, do you know how often I hear the same thing from seventh-years about wanting to stay longer?"

"Yeah I do, because Alyssa said just that," admits Pansy, staring at the skies with an indignant expression. "Life isn't fair at all."

"It will be fair when Voldemort hits the ground for the last time," says Harry, "and there's only one Curse I can think of to do the job someday."

"Cruciatus? It'll be great to see him suffer after all that he's done."

"Are you nuts?" Harry shakes his head while speaking. "No way could I pull off that kind of stunt on him. Voldemort may be an idiot, but he's not stupid. Look, I really don't want to be discussing this right now."

"Yeah, sure, I understand." Pansy sits up and stretches with a yawn. "There's enough shitty news in the papers these days anyway. Maybe the  _Daily Prophet_  should take a cue from the Muggles. We could all do with a healthy dose of some 'Page Three', if you know what I mean."

"Ha! My uncle never liked such lewdness in the newspapers, and my aunt was all too happy to agree," says Harry, before spending the rest of the afternoon solely with Pansy.

Tuesday arrives, and it's one step closer to the end of another school year. Excitement and anxiety seems abuzz across Hogwarts as many anticipate (and fear) their first summer holidays marred by Voldemort's return. The owls swoop down upon the tables, as usual, at breakfast to deliver various mail including the  _Daily Prophet_. News of another suspicious death (some low-level Ministry employee) causes more than a few eyes to dart in Harry's direction.

"Don't look now, sweetheart, but some people are starting to stare at you," says Pansy, speaking while holding her paper deliberately in front of Harry. "Relax, they're not blaming you at all."

"On the contrary," says Tracey, "Those looks are kinda hopeful. It's as if they're gauging your reaction, Chosen One. Do they honestly think you'll just hop up and go fight You-Know-Who right now?"

"This is war and people are going to die," replies Harry, "That's just how it is. Besides, there's no way I'm anywhere near strong enough to actually defeat Voldemort right now."

"Please don't say that too loud," says Millicent, "Rather let people have hope. But if you go around with a despondent demeanour, then you're not doing anybody any good."

"However," adds Daphne, "Don't do the opposite; I wouldn't recommend going around boasting that you'll destroy You-Know-Who. Just keep it as calm as possible in these tumultuous times, Harry."

With less than a handful of days to go until the train departs from Hogsmeade station, Harry spends as much time as possible with his friendly seventh-years. These include Fred and George, Angelina, Yasmin, Cedric, Adrian, Bletchley, Warrington, etc. Harry even walks past a conversation between Cedric and Tonks, in the Paved Courtyard, on Tuesday afternoon regarding the former's Auror application. Elsewhere, Yasmin lets slip on next year's Head Girl to those she trusts the most; Harry being one of them.

"It was a tough decision, but in the end I nominated Cho Chang," says Yasmin, walking beside Harry and his girls on the slopes near Hagrid's cabin. "It's just a vote of confidence, though, and wouldn't automatically make her Head Girl. Still, she's smart, level-headed enough, and really pleasant to be around. Biased or not, Cedric pretty much agreed as well that Cho could live up to my badge next year."

"Excellent choice indeed," says Pansy, "Yeah, Chang's alright to hold that badge of yours, but wouldn't the Prefects feel cheated by this?"

"Not my problem," replies Yasmin, "Being Prefect doesn't guarantee becoming Head student. I think Harry's dad was a notable example."

"Yeah, he was a changed man in his final school year," says Harry, "And that's why daddy James got the top badge. So, um, who's likely to be Head Boy next year?"

"Some Gryffindor that should've been in seventh-year now, but I think he failed his sixth one last year," says Yasmin. "Kenneth Towler or something like that, yeah."

"They're making a failure Head Boy?" asks Daphne.

"Must be Dumbledore's way of showing that anyone can achieve great things, if they persevere hard enough," says Harry.

"Don't jump the gun," adds Pansy, "If Towler fails his sixth year again, then he obviously won't be Head Boy."

"You and your Muggle terminology again," says a scoffing Tracey, before Yasmin turns to smile at Harry.

"It's probably been said before, but I can so see you as Head Boy while Granger's Head Girl someday. No offense to Pansy over here."

"Oh please; I've stopped stressing over that a long time ago," says Pansy, "There's just no competing with Granger's ingenuity, really. Besides, it's clear that Harry would prefer Granger as his Head Girl, because it's like the past, right?"

"What in heck are you talking about?" asks Harry, as the group reaches the top of the slopes.

"Wasn't mummy Muggleborn Head Girl while daddy dearest was Head Boy?" asks Pansy, ruffling Harry's messy hair. "It's in your blood to get the Head badge, baby Potter."

Harry grins at the prospect of making Head Boy just like Tom Riddle had once done. "Heh, let's wait and see..."

Wednesday brings a fairly simple morning of wandering around the castle for Harry. But in the early afternoon, he comes across Professor Snape in the corridor outside their common room.

"Professor Dumbledore and I have... discussed things, Potter."

"Sir?"

Snape checks to see if the corridor is cleared before speaking. "You have two days to discretely improve upon your Cushioning Charm, if need be. Then we'll see if the  _Chosen One_  can soften up a landing from atop the Astronomy Tower itself."

"W-Wait, I'm expected to jump off that? For what? Is this a joke, Professor? I really don't understand."

"Of course, I will be on hand in case of a failed attempt. But if you're incapable of safeguarding against such a task, then it'll be to your detriment, Potter."

Harry frowns in utter bewilderment as he replies. "With all due respect, sir, I really have no idea what you're speaking about."

"Don't expect me to spoon-feed you with everything!" Snape sighs while folding his arms. "The first step in our 'lessons' is making sure you're safe. Consider them put on hold if you display incompetence, Potter." He glares at the curious Harry. "Do not ask me what 'lessons' I am referring to. Use your brain and figure out why it's of the utmost importance that you're adept at the Cushioning Charm as a prerequisite. After all, the Dark Lord never splattered himself across the ground during the initial stages of creating this ability."

"Oh, now I understand!" says Harry, "We're talking about fly—"

"Enough; go and practice,  _safely_ , before I'm forced to babysit an incompetent idiot leaping off the Astronomy Tower. It would be rather unfortunate should my reactions seem a slight bit off on the night."

Just as Harry turns to exit the corridor, Snape speaks once more.

"Do not speak of this to anyone, is that clear? Not even Granger, Potter."

Nodding, Harry heads for an empty classroom on the sixth floor where he stacks up a few tables, three metres high. In keeping with Snape's requirements, Harry leaps off the top one before casting  _Molliare_.

_THUD!_

He hits the stone floor with but a hint of invisible padding beneath him. Nevertheless, it's a decent start for Harry to have partially performed his spell at such short notice. Now if he could just improve upon casting a Cushioning Charm here, then breaking a fall from the Astronomy Tower shouldn't be much of a problem. What does present an issue is needing to cover up his clandestine practice over the next few days. Fortunately, he recalls Sirius having leapt off a spectators' tower during the Quidditch final. This presents a decent motivation for Harry to use when questioned by Hermione, or the girls, with regards to his table-jumping antics.

"You could always use  _Arresto Momentum_  too, you know," says Hermione, watching in amusement as Harry narrowly mistimes his Cushioning Charm. "But stick to the simple things, I guess."

"This is kinda cute, though," says a giggling Pansy, "To think Harry's so desperate to emulate his beloved godfather. Jump, little Potter, jump!"

"What the hell am I watching here?" asks a bewildered Sally-Anne. "He's like a wee little kid in a park or something."

Taking a moment's rest from his cushioning practice, Harry stands atop the desk and raises his arms while declaring: "Bow down to your Chosen One, mwhahaha! I shall conquer the entire world!"

"Technically impossible," says a fondly smiling Hermione, "That would include the deepest and darkest depths of the ocean. How exactly would you assert your authority down there?"

"Then I'll conquer the deepest and darkest depths of my Granger instead."

"I really saw that one coming more than a mile away," says a blushing Hermione, while Pansy and the girls roar with laughter.

Their jubilance carries on as Friday, the 25th of June, eventually arrives. All throughout the dormitories and common rooms, students pack their trunks in preparation for the train's departure on Saturday morning. But tonight, it's time for the much anticipated end-of-term Feast.

After another day spent in the company of his older pals, Harry heads for the Entrance Hall while dressed for the occasion.

"Argh, the hats!" sighs Harry, climbing the spiralling staircase ahead of his equally amused Slytherin girls. "We're wearing...  _the hats_."

"The pointy hats!" adds a sniggering Pansy, "Now our heads look like ice-cream cones once again."

"Daphne, put on your hat!" scolds Tracey, forcing her friend to don the customary piece of headgear. As dozens of students converge upon the Great Hall, Harry stands on tiptoes to sweep his gaze over the crowd. Sure enough, he locks eyes and winks at Ginny Weasley as she takes her seat at the Gryffindor table.

Nodding as if to say 'There's always next year', Ginny concedes defeat upon seeing Harry grinning at the green and silver décor. In addition, a huge banner depicting the Slytherin serpent hangs behind the staff table as well. But it's not long until Harry hears a familiar voice coming from his left at the Slytherin table.

"Don't act so proud, Potter; you're no Slytherin," says Theodore Nott, frowning alongside his equally irritable group of friends.

"We did all the hard work while you played Hide-Like-a-Coward around school," says Zabini, "If only we knew you were around... Umbridge would've sent you to the Dementors for good."

There's no need for Harry to respond, as he spots Sirius in the corner of his eye standing near one corner of the Great Hall.

"Leave my godson alone, Nott. I think we'd all appreciate you shutting up and stuffing food down your sewer of a mouth."

Sniggering most derisively, Harry makes his way towards his usual seat at the far end of the Slytherin table. "Lovely night, huh, ladies?"

Pansy's the first of the group to smile and nod, although somewhat concerned. "I just hope nothing happens over this summer. Or at least, I hope nothing happens to  _you_ , Harry Potter."

"Nothing can harm the Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-the-Chosen-One." He plonks himself down beside a worried Pansy as Professor Dumbledore now approaches his owl lectern.

"The end of another year," He pauses while looking around at the many students. "And what an eventful one it has been, if I may say so myself. We have all seen our share of challenges, few more so than Harry Potter himself."

Pansy pats Harry on the leg, and he smiles at her while quite a few heads briefly look his way in the Hall.

"I do not think there is any need to mention what we're already aware of: that Lord Voldemort remains at large. But what I'd like to repeat is that we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided..."

The sobering speech carries on for a good few minutes, while anxious looks cross many a student, until it's time for the usual proceedings. The final House points are announced with Slytherin edging out Gryffindor by a decent margin. As expected, recent events have caused numerous students to hardly care for the House Cup at all. Many expressions convey fear over the safety of themselves, their friends, and their families.

But Harry, regardless of being known as Voldemort's top target, initiates the applause which soon spreads across the Slytherin table. So what if the most dangerous wizard is on the loose? Harry's in no mood to downplay the very same celebrations which had brought him joy since first year. It is for this reason that he stands (as do his pals) and throws up his hat without a care in the world. Looks of bewilderment come his way now; it's clear that many students are shocked at Harry celebrating something as 'mundane' as the House Cup, considering that Lord Voldemort remains active.

"However," says a smiling Dumbledore, "although Slytherin has retained the House Cup for the eleventh year in a row, I believe a few more announcements need to be made. Firstly, Ravenclaw had played its part, courtesy of more than just Miss Lovegood's presence at the Ministry of Magic in April. I believe Miss Chang, Miss Patil, and Mr. Goldstein had uncovered two potential Voldemort supporters plotting a scheme..."

Harry leans to whisper in Pansy's ear. "Wait, what? When did this happen?"

"At the end of our last Hogsmeade trip. If you weren't so caught up with your lovey dovey number one, then you'd have known," she replies, though with a sweet smile nonetheless.

"...Gryffindor, it need not be said, had certainly played their part during the Ministry confrontation," says Dumbledore. "Then we have Mr. Diggory, Miss Abbot, Mr. Fleet, and a few others, who had assisted our Aurors with their investigation of an attempted kidnapping in Hogsmeade..."

"Okay, now when did  _that_  happen?" asks Harry to Pansy yet again.

Sighing, she gently holds his hand beneath the table and smiles. "Two days before our Hogsmeade trip. Sometimes, it's not always about you, baby Potter."

"...given the nature of our points system this year, and considering the aforementioned events, we need a little change of decoration."

Dumbledore claps his hands. In an instant, most of the décor undergoes a noticeable change. Green and silver remains fluttering above Harry's table while, elsewhere, he spots the Gryffindors looking up at their scarlet and gold colours. Blue and bronze hangs high above the Ravenclaw table while black and yellow adorns the hangings above the Hufflepuff section.

"For this year, the House Cup is therefore awarded to Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw," says Dumbledore, causing quite a stir in the Great Hall. Fortunately, the general reaction is overwhelming positive as dozens upon dozens of hats are hurled upwards in cheers and celebration.

Meanwhile, Harry overhears Malfoy speaking farther down the table.

"Have you ever seen something this pathetic and embarrassing before? What an awkward joke of trying to force awkward 'unity' among us!"

"Say it like it is, Draco!" says Nott, "Dumbledork is nothing but a manipulative old bastard making his own crap up at the end of the year. Look at these losers just lapping his nonsense up like pathetic sheep."

"What is this rubbish?" asks Zabini. "Why wait until now, right at the end, to cheat us out of getting the House Cup?"

"Ignore them," says Pansy, upon seeing Harry glaring at his former roommates seated down the table. "They're the ones who are pathetic and awkward."

"Look on the bright side," says Daphne to Harry, "We haven't actually lost the House Cup, have we? So we've still won it for yet another year in a row. I suppose shared glory is still glory after all."

The main course of tonight's feast soon lines the tables, and what a selection it truly is! Harry swipes helpings from bowls all around him and, on one occasion, accidentally reaches over a groaning Pansy's plate.

_SMACK!_

She whacks his hand aside, and Harry instead requests that Pansy pass him the bowl of food on her left.

"Yeah, just because he's the Chosen One doesn't excuse him from table manners," says Sally-Anne, shaking her head at Harry. "Don't reach over people's plates while they're eating!"

Regardless, Harry absolutely enjoys the rest of his feast until leaving the Great Hall at 11pm. With his belly filled, he excuses himself for a 'meeting with Professor Dumbledore.' In truth, Harry makes his way to the top of the Astronomy Tower where Professor Snape awaits.

"I am not responsible for any nausea, vomiting, or expulsion of waste you may incur from tonight's test," he says, even though Harry couldn't help himself at the end-of-year feast. "Now, as I was saying the other day, the Dark Lord's technique first requires one to be safeguarded from failure. In other words, if you doubt your ability to recover from a fall, then you've already failed at even trying to understand unsupported flight, Potter. There can be no doubts, understand?"

"Yes, sir," says a nodding Harry, hoping with all his might that he wouldn't throw up from what he's about to do.

"On the count of three, we will both leap off this tower. You may be wondering why I've chosen this particular night with relatively poor visibility? Well, that's precisely it; I am expecting you to anticipate your landing and plan appropriately. Then again, we absolutely cannot practice this in broad daylight, Potter. Now, jump!"

"But, sir, you said on the count of—"

"Life can be unexpected."

With wand clutched tightly in his grip, Harry climbs atop the railing before inhaling deeply. Then he takes, quite literally, a leap of faith beneath the darkness of a cloudy night sky. While freefalling from the top of the tower, Harry makes an expression of screwing up his face against the rush of wind resistance. All it takes is a decent attempt at the Cushioning Charm once he's metres from the ground to land safely.

"Sufficient," says Snape, landing in a swirl of black smoke beside Harry. "Now ascend the tower and repeat this three more times. No cheating, Potter; should one lose control of unsupported flight in midair, there would be little time to respond appropriately. I do not wish to see you casting that Cushioning Charm until you're nearing the ground."

Knowing that Snape wouldn't give him an easy lift up, Harry enters the tower and climbs staircase after staircase until he's once more at the top. Over the next half an hour, he jumps, cushions his fall, and jogs up countless steps yet again. It's nauseating and indeed exhausting, but a necessary test before Harry can even hope to start learning from his Head of House.

But this is merely a preliminary trial run for Harry, and he's soon made to jump yet again until the clock strikes midnight. Next, Snape assigns him the task of practicing his Levitation Charm, in addition to  _Levicorpus_.

"If I so much as  _hear_  that you're testing it out on other students, Potter..." says Snape, as they stand atop the Astronomy Tower yet again.

"Is there a problem with that, sir?" asks Harry, wondering what's got Snape so suddenly upset. "Not even on my own friends?"

"The next phase of preparation, before I even begin our flight practice, is to have you capable of adeptly casting both  _Wingardium Leviosa_  as well as  _Levicorpus._  For the former, I'll be expecting you to levitate numerous objects simultaneously; for the latter, you'll be hoisting yourself off the ground for as long as requested. Then, you'll perform both tasks together."

"I take it we'll be practicing those next year, Professor?"

"Your Trace remains active, and I certainly do not wish to have you over for the summer holidays, Potter."

Harry sighs and nods, having grown used to his Head of House's temperament over the past five years. "I knew that, Professor."

With the Hogwarts Express set to depart Hogsmeade station at 11am today, Harry makes haste to his common room. Here, he spends nearly an hour in the company of his five girls before it's time to call it a night. However, the prospect of bidding farewell to more friendly faces later on makes for a troubling night's sleep for Harry.

 


	37. Still Family, After All

With under three hours to go until the Hogwarts Express is set to leave for London, everyone and everything appears ready. Trunks are packed, owls are caged, breakfast is done, and students flood the castle's grounds on a sunny Saturday morning. Dozens seek the coolness and shade of many a tree in sight, but Harry sits, on a rock, right in the open.

"So, I 'ave become like an umbrella, I see," says Fleur, seated right beside Harry. The former's long, silvery hair flows over Harry's face while he rests his head on Fleur's right shoulder. "Stop looking so sad, 'Arry, because eet is ze end of term. Now you can run around all 'oliday, sleep late all 'oliday, fly brooms when you're at ze Burrows place—"

"The 'Burrow'," says a mumbling Harry, relishing the coolness of being beneath such silky smooth hair.

"Ah yes, I 'ad evidently forgotten ze proper name." Fleur laughs while resting her cheek atop Harry's unruly hair. "Everything alright under zere? Eet can reflect much 'eat, you know."

Harry shuts his eyes and smiles. "You're lucky to have such lovely hair. So light and so bright; it sure puts you in the spotlight."

"So we are rhyming now? Okay zen." Fleur puts a finger on her lip and tilts her head in thought. "I cannot theenk of a good rhyme at ze moment, my bad."

"It's no big deal—"

"But you need to stop looking so sad," says a smiling Fleur, kissing Harry on his head. "Is it because your older friends are leaving?"

"Fred, George, Cedric, Yasmin, Miles, Cassius, Adrian, Angelina, etc. They were all great people," says Harry.

Fleur tries to suppress her laugh while speaking. "You act like zey've died or something. Zey 'are' good people, 'Arry. Oh well, perhaps I should teach you English, right?"

"So funny; I'm dying of laughter," replies Harry, grinning mischievously upon looking up to make eye contact with a smirking Fleur.

It's not long until they draw a fair bit of attention from students passing by on the slopes. Some remain envious while others either ignore or smile Harry's way. But there's always at least one group of haters who make no effort to curb their vile behaviour. This, of course, comes in the form of Malfoy's group deliberately mocking and sniggering at Harry (and especially his quarter-Veela love).

"For once," mutters Harry, still resting his head on Fleur's shoulder, "I'm just going to outright ignore them."

"Eet is about damn time! No need to sour zis fine end-of-term-day by indulging zose idiots' stupidity. Good boy, 'Arry, vairy good lad."

More students pass by, including the very same seventh-years whom Harry's just spoken of. The group, led by Yasmin, makes their way across the slopes to stand before Harry.

"Meester, your friends are wanting to talk." Fleur lifts her long, silvery blonde hair away from Harry.

"How adorable," says a smiling Yasmin, "Hiding behind your 'curtain', eh, Harry? Well, this is it, I guess; it's not like anyone of us could avoid this day forever."

"I can tell zat you are all feeling a leetle nervous," says Fleur, gently nudging Harry to sit up straight. "But zere is no need to worry, because ze O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. systems 'ave done a good job of preparing you all for ze future."

"Is that an actual compliment, Fleur?" asks Angelina Johnson. "You've certainly come a long way from insulting our 'beeg ugly castle', haven't you?"

"Yes, I 'ave."

Chuckling slightly, Harry whispers in her ear. "You don't have to respond to that; it's a tag question... or you can say it's also a rhetorical one."

"Harry," says Yasmin, speaking on behalf of the (decent) graduating seventh-years. "You've come a long way from the timid little boy who's often forgotten my name. If we don't see each other on the train, or at King's Cross later, then let me take this opportunity to say it was great watching you grow and mature."

"Ugh, speeches," says a yawning Fred, "Look, mate, it was good fun having you around. So, we'll give you a discount in our upcoming store, alright? Bring all your friends and family to come and visit."

"Not the Muggles, though," adds George, "Wouldn't want to risk a Ministry incident in Diagon Alley."

"Now that you've mentioned it," says Cedric Diggory, "Where did you guys get enough money to start up a whole store? No offense intended."

"Our tragic Triwizard Champion over here donated his prize money, of course," says Fred, "Not to mention the King of Pranks himself, Sirius Black, so generously donating a teeny tiny bit of family wealth into our futures."

Cedric steps forward to shake Harry hand and wish him well for the future. "I know the hard times are only getting started, but don't let that spoil your senior years in school. You're N.E.W.T. level now, Harry, and we know you'll own them."

"Thanks," replies Harry, battling to suppress his emotions. Next up, the trio of Slytherin Quidditch boys say their goodbyes.

"Now it's really your time to lead the team, Harry," says Cassius Warrington. "Forget Nott; that team doesn't count for crap. You do whatever is necessary to show that there's only one real Quidditch Captain in Slytherin, alright? Kick arse, take names, and reclaim our Cup from Gryffindor."

Adrian Pucey pats Harry on the shoulder while shaking his hand. "Such a pity that things went downhill this year; I would've enjoyed playing on a proper team, like Marcus had planned. But hey, life moves on and so should we. Wherever yours takes you, Harry, make some lemonade with it."

"Heh, thanks, but the proper expression is: 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade'," says Harry, grinning nonetheless.

Miles Bletchley steps forward next, and he clears his throat before speaking. "Best of luck to you, Harry, just like Adrian's said. Look, I think it's pretty obvious to all that you and You-Know-Who are going to fight again in the future. When that happens, well, I'm hoping for the best Slytherin to walk away, and it ain't that guy. Seventh-year is a true nightmare of work, so make the most of your sixth one and get ready. But don't forget about having fun and, especially, being a kick arse Prefect as well."

"And when you're done stomping You-Know-Who someday," adds Angelina, "Don't forget about us common folks, alright? Feel free to look down every once in awhile from atop your lordly throne."

"I'll think about it," says Harry, "So, uh, if we do see each other again over the next few hours..."

"No need to be awkward," replies Cedric, "Have a chat, sit down, or whatever. Alright, we're heading to the Boathouse now. Graduation ceremony, you know? Gotta ride those boats, for the last time, on our way out into the big, bad world out there."

"You couldn't have picked a more exciting time to start your journey to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," says George, "Although 'exciting' isn't the word which ought to be used."

"Oi!" Hagrid's booming voice can be heard across the slopes as he stands near the Entrance Courtyard. "Seventh-years, over here please! Yeh ready ter step outta school and into the real world?"

Mumbling a few metres from Harry's group, Graham Montague shakes his head. "No way am I riding with that oaf again. Do I look like a first-year?"

Yasmin draws her wand and grips it tightly. "It's tradition, you jerk! So shut it and let's enjoy our last bit of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Fleur stands up, grabs Harry into a hug, and then ushers him forward. "Zese seventh-years truly seem to mean a lot to you, 'Arry. Don't worry about me; I will do some last minute patrolling around your beeg pretty castle. You must go and watch your friends' graduation tradition now."

Heeding Fleur's advice, Harry immediately joins the growing crowd of students approaching to get a view of the Black Lake. It's not compulsory, but many students opt to watch their seniors depart in the very same boats wherein they've first arrived.

"Oh don't cry," says a lower year Hufflepuff girl to one of her friends in the crowd. "We'll still see them later on in the train anyway."

Harry, meanwhile, walks away from the dozens of students in order to seek out his godfather. Sure enough, he finds Sirius in the Entrance Hall levitating a trunk and owl cage; Harry's ones, no less.

"Ah, there you are, Harry! Just the man I've been looking for. Thought you might've forgotten about all your school stuff now that it's holidays," says Sirius.

"Thanks a bunch! I was going to ask Dobby to bring my stuff, though," replies Harry, with a sudden stern expression upon checking to see if the Hall's clear.

Sirius, naturally, spots his godson's change in demeanour. "Um, what's with that look? I haven't done anything wrong, have I? It's the holidays, man, chill out."

"No, it's nothing to stress about," Harry scratches the back of his hair while trying to put his thoughts into words. "It's just... there's this idea that's been nagging me all morning."

Sirius sets down Harry's possessions before listening attentively. "Okay, let's hear whatever is going on upstairs then."

"You might not like it, though." says a worried Harry.

"Well, I've heard my fair share of 'ideas' in the past from your dad," says Sirius, standing with his hands in his pockets. "Gonna pull a last minute prank today? We've only got less than two hours left to get it going."

"No, this isn't for jokes and laughs," replies Harry, staring at the ground. "I want to go to Azkaban."

"Wait, say what? Oh, I see. Funny man, Harry, funny man... hilarious! Yeah, just pass me a phone and I'll book your cell right now, complete with 5-star accommodation as well."

But Harry doesn't so much as twitch with a smile as he remains unsmiling. "I can either go in under Polyjuice, which there's still a bit of at home, or use my Invisibility Cloak."

"But what for? Going to rub some insults in Lucius or his cronies' faces? Ha! I'd definitely join in on that," says Sirius.

Harry shakes his head before replying, "I'm not just gonna leave a damaged woman in there, you know."

"Oh, here we go again," sighs Sirius, "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, Harry, but you can't be a hero for everyone—"

"She's your cousin, Sirius."

"Don't you think I'm already well aware of that? She's also ninety-nine percent pure evil who's better off behind bars! Sorry, I meant one hundred percent."

"She's your cousin, Sirius."

"I really do admire the surprisingly unconditional understanding you have towards my family," says Sirius, clearly uncomfortable with Harry's persistence, "but some people are irreversibly mad."

"That's the same thing I heard about you, from the papers, back in third-year," says Harry, "and look at you now."

Sirius darts his gaze around the Hall while trying his best to avoid Harry's firm glare. "Damn, it's like arguing with Lily all over again. You're really adamant on your point of view, eh? Can't you understand that Bellatrix is—"

"She's your cousin, Sirius," repeats Harry, locking eyes and glaring at his nervous godfather.

"Argh, fine." Sirius' standing facepalm conveys much uncertainty and worry with regards to Harry's insistence. "This is something I'll have to discuss with Professor Dumbledore and the Aurors."

"Forget the ones who I don't know too well," says Harry, "The only Auror I care about is probably Tonks. Moody's an ex-Auror so he doesn't really count."

While Sirius hurries off to the second floor, Harry levitates his possessions out into the Entrance Courtyard. Then, to his surprise, he spots Ron leading the group of Lavender, Fay, Neville, Eloise, and Parvati around the courtyard's cloister. Following them is none other than Luna Lovegood walking around with an empty sack.

"What are you people up now? You do realise the train's set to leave quite soon, right?" asks Harry.

"Wanna join in on the search, mate? We're scouring the school for some of Luna's stolen belongings," says Ron.

"Uh, just use  _Accio_?" asks Harry, "Provided that you know what they look like, roughly where they might be, etc."

"It's all good fun," says Luna, walking barefoot without a care in the world.

"Any idea who took them? Because I'm so in the mood to dish out detention and penalize House points," says Harry, to which Luna shakes her head as the group enters the courtyard itself.

"Calm your inner rage, Prefect Potter," says Fay Dunbar, checking near some extinguished torches around the cloister. "Nope, no shoes nor gloves here."

"You ought to consider taking revenge on whoever's playing the fool with your possessions," says Harry to Luna, "Perhaps I should teach you some more offensive Hexes and Curses; leave the little Jinxes behind when going after these people."

"Not everyone is as crazy as you, Harry," says Parvati, walking down the courtyard and checking under every bench. "Alright, team, let's split up across the other courtyards or wherever."

Harry would join the search, except that he's soon called over by Tonks standing near the Boathouse's stairs (to the left of the courtyard). Her expression conveys a hint of patience and curiosity towards the approaching Harry.

"Come over here," she says kindly, wrapping her arm around Harry's shoulders once he's beside her. "What's really your deal, young man?"

"I dunno what you're talking about, Dora."

She gently squeezes his shoulder and tilts her head. "How can you have a soft spot for the least softest woman in this entire world? Leave my 'aunt' behind bars where she belongs, Harry."

"Why do you say 'aunt' like that?" he asks, genuinely curious as to the look of disgust on Tonks' face.

"Because she doesn't see me, a Muggle's child, as her family. It's as simple as that." Tonks shakes her head. "She wouldn't hesitate to kill any of us, should the opportunity arise. Look, I know you sometimes go by Dumbledore's way of seeing the good in folks, but Bellatrix Lestrange simply has no good. Her heart's nothing but black, and I don't mean that as a pun at all."

"Funny you should say that, considering the many ways Bella could have taken Sirius and I down at the Ministry—"

"Harry," sighs Tonks, "Don't you remember how she actually almost killed my cousin?"

"You're more like Sirius' niece than a cousin," says Harry.

"I'm his first cousin once removed, because that's how it's stated; Sirius is not my uncle. Anyway, like I've said, Bellatrix Lestrange nearly killed him at the Ministry."

"I was referring to before you guys showed up. Bella could have Cursed or knocked us out in so many ways. Instead, she was more fooling around than anything else," says Harry, "I know she likes to 'play with her prey' before going at it, but this was the all-important prophecy mission where she toyed with us."

"Regardless; she's still nothing short of pure evil. Don't fool yourself into thinking she's some misunderstood woman or whatever. Please, just re-evaluate your thought processes here, Harry.  _Bellatrix Lestrange_ ," says Tonks, emphasising the notorious name.

"Née Black," adds Harry, "That's all I care about at the moment."

"Lovable little hypocrite, aren't you?" asks Tonks. "What about my other aunt: Narcissa Malfoy, née Black? I don't see you running around trying to soften up Narcissa, nor are you making any effort to 'see the good' in Draco Malfoy."

"I've already tried to appease Malfoy for as long as possible, but it seems three to four years was enough. He's the one that got all aggro on me after awhile anyway," says Harry, "As for Narcissa, well, she hates my guts for sending her husband to prison. With Bella, at least there's still the infinitesimally miniscule fraction of a chance that she's disappointed in Voldemort. I'm not giving up on her just yet."

"You're wasting your time, young man," replies Tonks, "Really and truly wasting your time now. What could possibly make you believe that  _Bellatrix Lestrange_  would be disappointed in her biggest idol ever!?"

"Because it's not all freedom and fun for her, is it? I saw, and almost felt, Voldemort do some quick thinking and assessment of usefulness. He opted to grab Bartemius Crouch Jr., instead of even Bellatrix, at the Atrium." Harry scoffs and smirks. "That careless disregard will be his undoing, just you watch someday."

"I know my 'aunt' better than you'd think, Harry. She'll see this as just another test of perseverance in the path to ingratiating herself with You-Know-Who. Don't forget that, without the Dementors, Azkaban isn't much of a punishment for Bellatrix Lestrange these days anyway."

A few seconds passes by as Harry opens the owl cage for Hedwig to swoop down and enter. Coming back to the topic of Bellatrix, Harry turns to firmly lock eyes with Tonks. "Have you ever been held in Azkaban? Once you've gotten a taste of freedom, you'd never wish to spend even another minute back in there, Dementors or not."

Tonks folds her arms and smiles slightly. "That's not going to work on me, young man. Oh no, Remus pretty much warned me about how you pull that 'Lily stare' on people."

"Don't change the topic," says Harry, "I want to visit her and that's what's going to happen."

"Gosh, you're persistent!" says Tonks in disbelief, "What about my mum, huh? She kinda looks like Bellatrix Lestrange, just so you know. Why aren't you so determined to meet and greet her?"

"She's already got a warm and loving environment, doesn't she? But the Malfoys have bloody  _Voldemort_ , and so does Bella." Harry spots the look on Tonks' face as the latter realises there's little point in arguing any further.

"By the way," says Tonks, as Harry walks away, "Neville Longbottom's not at all impressed by your stance on my 'aunt', Harry."

"Like I give a rat's arse what he thinks. I, not Neville, am the Chosen One who will bring down Lord Voldemort someday."

At around half past ten, the second to sixth-year students make their way down the castle's slopes. Harry joins the crowd of hundreds as he walks between Hermione and Pansy, both girls glancing with equal concern at each other.

"Don't go and die over the holidays, Granger."

"Try to steer clear of Voldemort over the holidays, Pansy."

Their journey from Hogsmeade station to London takes up the entire afternoon, as usual. Fields, houses, and all manner of landscapes pass by throughout the trip along the countryside. For Harry, however, it's not all peace and quiet. Once he's on his way back from the toilet, and passing many a filled compartment, he hears multiple footsteps coming from behind.

A blast of yellow narrowly misses Harry as it crashes into the roof above. And before he knows it, Harry's locked in a duel against Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. Fortunately, the numbers game works in his favour as the five boys struggle to position themselves in the narrow passageway.

"FIGHT!" yells some students from their compartments nearby. However, by the time the patrolling adults (essentially Sirius and Tonks) arrive on scene, they're greeted by an alarming sight. Students gradually flock to see the commotion, and gasps are heard as Tonks tries to calm the situation.

"Let it go, Harry," she warns, "I think they've learnt their lesson."

"Don't let it go!" cheers Sirius, to which Tonks elbows him in the side while shaking her head. "Uh, I meant: that's quite enough now, yeah."

But Harry remains standing above the suffocating Nott, the former hissing out instructions to his  _Serpensortia_  snake.

"Wrap around his throat; start crushing it, slowly."

"What's he saying? Is that P-Parseltongue again?" asks some Hufflepuff boy who Harry's unfamiliar with. "This is just like the time when—"

"Shut up," says a Ravenclaw boy, "That group attacked Harry Potter first, I saw it from my window!"

"Can't... breathe..." gasps Nott, while Zabini yells at Harry to cease his attack. Almost immediately, Tonks fires a counterspell which vanishes the serpent and frees Theodore Nott from its chokehold.

"You're a damned monster, Potter!" says Malfoy, "I think you ought to go back behind bars for this."

"You're the ones who are fortunate enough to still be in school," retorts Sirius. "How dare you attack my godson here like such pathetic cowards! PISS OFF BACK TO YOUR COMPARTMENT." He kicks Nott as the latter's hauled up and taken away by Zabini. This leaves Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle to flee with their roommates.

"Sirius! You can't just assault students like that," says Tonks.

"I don't give a Wormtail's arse. Gits thought they could get in some cheap shots? Did they forget that we're here?" Sirius scoffs and checks up on Harry. "You alright? They didn't get you, did they?"

"Not after all that Shield Charm practice I've been doing," says Harry smugly, "The way their spells were deflected back; it was like watching a stack of dominoes fall over, hahaha!"

Tonks grips Harry's shoulders firmly whilst standing before him. "There was no need for that stranglehold, though."

"He deserved it," replies Harry, seeing Tonks looking at him with a noticeably concerned expression.

"Just... please take a moment's rest with your pals. By the way, Professor Dumbledore gave the A-OK with regards to your... you know..."

"If Dumbledore said yes, then I see no reason to deny Harry his 'idea'," says Sirius, now looking at his godson, "However, Tonks, Moody, Remus and I are all coming with you."

"What the hell are they talking about?" asks Ron, standing between his group near the front of the crowd.

Nobody knows, and that includes even Hermione who glances worriedly at Harry as the latter approaches.

"Harry..."

"Don't say it; I'm not in the mood for a lecture on being civil," says Harry, halting before his concerned friend. "Let's just hope they've finally learnt their damn lesson on leaving me the hell alone!"

The remainder of Harry's journey is spent sharing a compartment with Hermione, Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, and Sally-Anne. All six girls find themselves torn between laughing, admonishing, and congratulating Harry on his excessively violent defence.

And before he knows it, they're in the heart of London as the train arrives at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Naturally, Pansy beats her pals at grabbing Harry into the tightest hug yet today.

"Please, please, please come back in one piece after the holidays, alright? If you're going to go after the Dark Lord—"

"Oh don't be silly, Pansy!" says Harry, kissing his dearest Slytherin friend on her cheek. "Your Chosen One must still...er... build up his almighty powers, yeah."

"Nice way of saying you're currently hopeless against You-Know-Who," says Tracey, grabbing Harry into a hug.

"But we still believe in you, no matter what!" says Daphne, joining in on the embrace.

Next comes Sally-Anne, eager to get in on the warmth. "Since you're living under some hidden house Charm somewhere, Harry, it'd be a great idea to duel your godfather and pals as much as possible. The Trace will be absolutely clueless as to your location, yep."

Millicent hugs Harry from behind while speaking. "Come back on September the 1st, alright? No jail sentences or anything else to make us super stressed out."

"I'm gonna bake a cake in your honour," declares Pansy, "And then light it up with sixteen beautiful candles on the 31st of July."

"Uh, rather don't do anything 'in my honour' at home," warns Harry. "Especially not your home, which I've yet to visit after all these years."

Watching from the compartment's doorway, Hermione can't help but smile at the group hug embrace. "Okay, ladies and gent, it's time for us all to go. Harry, they're waiting for you."

'They' turns out to be the group of Moody and Remus, clad in Mugglewear on the busy platform outside the Hogwarts Express. The duo are soon joined by Sirius and Tonks as Harry and his pals approach.

"Oh boy, now isn't this super amazingly awkward?" whispers Pansy, upon seeing her mother standing near the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten. Mrs. Parkinson's presence immediately puts Harry's entourage on full alert, and they make no effort of hiding their suspicions.

"Have a good summer holidays, love," says Harry, feeling a pang of sadness as Pansy hugs her mother before leaving through the barrier.

"At the end of the day, Parkinson's still a loving mum," says Sirius, "Anyway, let's see who else is around..."

Harry spots many of his now-graduated pals reuniting with their families. The Shafiqs, Bletchleys, Warringtons, and Puceys all come over to meet and greet the 'Chosen One'.

"Man, is the whole station going to approach Harry?" asks Lupin, leaning against a nearby wall. "Oh, here comes the merriest dad around..."

Indeed, a most jubilant Amos Diggory now approaches to have a lengthy chat with Harry's group. The former spends more than a few minutes boasting about his son's academic prowess.

"Five Outstandings out of six N.E.W.T. subjects! Can you believe it? My boy's coming for his desk in the Aurors' Department, Miss Tonks!"

"I'll be waiting for another Badger in the HQ," says a grinning Tonks, now turning to address Cedric. "But you've still got a long way to go, young Diggory."

Meanwhile, Cedric eagerly shakes Harry's hand while whispering his apologies. "Sorry about all this; dad's in the zone again, as usual."

"Enjoy it," says Harry, "He's obviously proud of you, man."

Meanwhile, Hermione smiles upon grabbing Harry's hand. "Hey, Mister, I thought I'd do you a slight favour for the holidays."

"What?"

"Just shush and see," says Hermione, walking beside Harry and his group (consisting of Lupin, Moody, Sirius, Tonks, Sally-Anne, Tracey, Daphne, and Millicent) as they pass through the magical barrier.

"There's your Muggle family, Potter," says Moody, grabbing hold of his bowler hat upon seeing the Dursleys. "How about it, then? I think it's about time that big bloke got put in his place. Just say the word and I'll have a chat with your uncle...  _eye-to-eye_ , if you know what I mean."

The four Slytherin girls snigger in delight, but Harry shakes his head upon seeing what Hermione's 'favour' happens to be. "No, they're still my family and I'm not in the mood to spook the poor chaps."

"Wait, what?" asks Daphne, "Oh don't be boring, Harry! We'd love to see your fat Muggle uncle get the fright of his life."

"Might risk a heart attack, though," says a snorting Tracey, "I still find it hard to believe that they're actually _your_  family."

It's not long until the Greengrass, Bulstrode, Davis, and Perks kin approach to collect their daughters. Although the four families attempt to act indifferent towards Harry, he can tell they're genuinely pleased with their daughters having befriended the Chosen One. This leaves Harry to stand with Hermione, and the four adults, while eyeing the Dursleys ahead.

Standing beside Harry's family are Mr. and Mrs. Granger, the former of whom can be heard speaking, somewhat softly, with Uncle Vernon.

"...yes, I can definitely relate to that. It was ever such a shock when we found out about all this stuff. But you just grow used to it over time, I suppose. Oh trust me, a lot of us try to keep this under wraps, you know? We don't actually have a choice in the matter."

Meanwhile, Hermione whispers in Harry's ear as their families try to keep their conversation as discreet as possible. "I'm not expecting a sudden complete change towards you, but don't you reckon it's better to approach things like this? Scaring them into submission would be a foolish, and short-sighted, solution to your less-than-warm home environment."

"Hmph," says Moody, "I still would've preferred frightening that Dursley. But if you think a little Muggle-to-Muggle chat with achieve anything at all, then fair play, Granger."

"How did I never think of this before?" asks Harry, glancing from a grinning Hermione to the Dursleys (who seem to find the company of two dentists rather acceptable). "Why spook them when they're inherently terrified of magic?"

"Don't get your hopes up, though," says Sirius, "James pretty much tried to be civil with Lily's family... and it didn't have a single good effect. Ahem, well, we'll be planning your 'idea' over the next few days, Harry."

"What idea?" asks Hermione, "Seriously, what are you planning without my knowledge?"

"Promise that you will not shout, scream, punch nor scold me if I tell you," says Harry.

"Well, it depends—"

"Promise, Hermione," says Harry, locking eyes with the curious girl.

"Oh, alright then. So long as it's not meeting some young girl who neither Pansy nor I know about," says Hermione. "You're not flirting with any Muggles I should be aware of, are you?"

Harry tries his utmost best to suppress the wave of laughter coming from within. "Are you nuts?  _Me_? Hermione, I'm practically nonexistent out here in our other world. Who the hell would even so much as look at this scruffy-haired boy? Jokes aside, I'm planning to pay a discreet visit to Azkaban."

"Excuse me?"

"You promised! So, anyway, I feel bad for Bellatrix Lestrange," says Harry, to which the adults sigh and facepalm themselves.

"I suppose it's pretty normal for an adolescent boy to have fantasies over older women," says Lupin, "Weren't we around Harry's age when checking out Madam Rosmerta back in the day, Padfoot?"

Sirius' grin says it all, and he now nods in agreement. "Yeah, but this is my deranged cousin which Harry's speaking about."

"Hey! Who said I'm doing this out of getting a hard-on over Bella?" asks a wide-eyed Harry, "Don't make up your own nonsense, guys, seriously!"

The topic of Bellatrix Lestrange is soon interrupted as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley approach Harry's group, with Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron alongside them.

Mrs. Weasley now walks right up to him. "Harry! Oh, you..."

"Brave gentleman?" Mr. Weasley hurriedly completes his wife's sentence while smiling at Harry. Then it occurs to the latter that he hasn't really been in contact with Ron's parents since before the Ministry incident.

"We're pretty sure mum was hoping to say 'irresponsibly foolish boy'," says Fred, "But hey, what do we know? It's only our mother."

Nevertheless, Harry finds himself fussed over by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with regards to what had transpired back in April. But what's done is done, and both Weasleys are simply grateful for nothing disastrous to have occurred.

"Oh, cool, it's like I wasn't even present at the Ministry," says Sirius, standing with his hands in his pockets while Harry gets fussed over. "No worries though, Harry deserves all the praise."

"You should've known better than to allow a boy, your own godson, to risk himself like that," scolds Mrs. Weasley, her voice low and furious while trying to avoid drawing unnecessary attention out here.

"Mum, Harry pretty much saved Sirius, or have you forgotten what we said?" asks George. "He's not just a 'boy' anymore, seriously!"

Mrs. Weasley proceeds to admonish Sirius as quietly as possible. Finally, after a good few minutes of scolding, she smiles and states that Harry's welcome to visit anytime over these holidays.

"No hard feelings, Sirius?" asks Ginny, as the rest of her family prepares to depart. "Mum's been waiting to scold you, especially right in front of Harry, for quite awhile now." She turns to wave at Harry. "Bye, Mister King Snake! I can't wait to take you down next year."

"In your dreams, Little Lion," scoffs Harry, returning the gesture by giving a wave as the Weasleys exit the station. Finally, Harry approaches Hermione's parents standing near the Dursleys.

"What an adventurous few years you've had since we've last seen you," says Mrs. Granger.

"Our daughter's written quite extensively about you," says Mr. Granger to Harry, "Nothing classified, though, if that's what you're worried about. Oddly enough, she stopped sending us letters throughout this year."

Hermione groans with a sigh. "I've already told you, dad; it was far too risky to send anything right up until April."

"Well, I suppose we shouldn't be holding you up from your family, young man," says Mrs. Granger, patting Harry on the shoulder.

Just as the Grangers are set to leave, Aunt Petunia calls out to Hermione. "Hold on just a minute there, you."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"So, both your parents are normal folks? And you... 'like' our nephew?" asks Aunt Petunia, to which Hermione happily nods, and Harry's heart races with concern. "Oh, I see then."

_Oh crap, this is awkward_ , thinks Harry, as his aunt glances from Hermione to him and back.  _What the hell is she looking at me for like this?_

"I would love to send you holiday letters, the  _normal_  way, Harry," says Hermione (while a wave of relief washes over the Dursleys at hearing 'normal'), "But you never ever know just who's on the bad side. So, we'll catch up when we meet again, alright?"

"Yeah, sure, stay safe!" says Harry, inwardly sighing at not saying anything more memorable.  _'Stay safe'? What the flip, Harry?_   _You're supposed to be the Chosen One_ _,_  he scolds himself.

At long last, it's just Harry and the Dursleys exiting King's Cross Station (while Sirius' group observes from a distance). Soon, Uncle Vernon's the first to break the silence as they walk. "So, been to jail again, boy? Those freaks lock you up with the Dementia?"

" _Dementors_ , uncle," corrects Harry, "And no, I've been a free man since going back."

"Hmph, dentists," says Uncle Vernon, changing the topic. "I suppose your kind can pop up anywhere indeed. But don't think we'll allow that girl to visit, you hear? Come to think of it, wasn't Dudley complaining of a painful back tooth last month, Petunia?"

A look of pure horror crosses Dudley's face, and Harry truly battles to hide his grin. For he'd never have to endure the suffering of Muggle dental treatments ever again.

"N-No, dad! I'm fine—"

"Nonsense, son, it takes a real man to sort his teeth out," says Uncle Vernon. "I say we book him with those two dentists. Did you get their number?"

"Sure did," says Aunt Petunia, speaking for the first time since staring from Harry to Hermione. "Perhaps we could organise a discount to help budget towards our next holiday trip?"

"Brilliant!" says Uncle Vernon, sporting the same gleeful look which Harry's occasionally done when organising more Galleons.

"No worries, Big D," says Harry, wrapping his arm around the clearly bigger boy. "I'm sure that tooth isn't too bad, right? Been laying on the sweets and taking a few bad boxing shots?"

"Come off it, Potter, you don't know what this is like." Dudley flexes his arms while barging Harry aside once they've reached the family car. "Real man problems!"

"Cool, and I only did things like battle a dragon."

"Don't talk crap," says Dudley, although Harry's expression shows nothing less than the truth. "Like that PlayStation game I rented last year?"

"Yeah, except that there's no saving and loading. No memory cards in real life, so to speak," says Harry, climbing into the car once everyone and everything's set.

"Now listen here, boy," says Uncle Vernon, while turning on the ignition. "We don't want to hear you talking all day about your insane world, understand?

"Of course, Uncle Vernon," says Harry, unfazed by any and all harsh tones in his uncle's voice.  _Why get upset at a bunch of ignorant Muggles? They're still family, after all._

'Family'; the exact same word he's used to justify whatever farfetched hope he has in getting through to Bellatrix Lestrange as well. Now, as the Dursleys' car makes its way out of London, and towards Surrey, Harry leans back to watch the countryside go by. With July less than a week away, and school set to start in September, he wonders just how this summer might go. Surely it'll be better than his last one? After rolling down the window, he enjoys the rush of wind through his hair. For the air is warm, uplifting, and with not a single Dementor in sight.

 


End file.
